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The 

GUILTY MAN 

(Le Coupable) 


FRANCOIS COPPEE 

’> M 

Authorized English Version 

BY 

RUTH HELEN DAVIS 



Illustrations By 

CLARENCE ROWE 


G. W. DILLINGHAM COMPANY 


PUBLISHERS 


NEW YORK 




Copyright, 1911 

BY 

G. W. DILLINGHAM COMPANY 


The Guilty Man 



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THERE WAS AN EXPRESSION OP FRENZIED JOY EVEN IN THE POSE OF THE ARM. 

Frontispiece. Page 45 . 



TO 

MY DEAR MOTHER 

IN APPRECIATION OF HER LOVE AND 
ENCOURAGEMENT 


New York, February, igii 


R. H. D. 



INTRODUCTION 


Were the heart the organ of speech we should have 
an universal language. Even as it is, its beats mark the 
rhythm of all emotional literature. An author who plays 
upon the heart-strings, purging the human passions, love 
and pity and terror, by arousing them and satisfying or 
allaying them, strengthening the moral fibre by giving it 
exercise, uplifting the imagination to a broad vision of hu- 
manity, and directing the will toward action in behalf of 
the oppressed, will not fail of devotees in other nations 
than his own. So it was with Charles Dickens, whose 
books have been translated into every civilized language, 
and who has been an inspiration to foreign authors no 
less than to those of the Anglo-Saxon world. In France, in 
particular, Dickens has found disciples among literary ar- 
tists of equal rank with himself, Alphonse Daudet and 
Frangois Coppee showing in certain of their best works 
the direct influence of the novelist whom Taine charac- 
terized as ,the great English painter and poet of humanity. 

More than Daudet, Coppee deserves the title of the 
French Dickens. A fellow member of the French Acad- 
emy, Jose de Heredia, calls him “the poet of the humble, 
painting with sincere emotion his profound sympathy for 
the sorrows, the miseries, and the sacrifices of the meek.’* 


4 


INTRODUCTION 


As an artist in fiction, says Heredia, “Coppee possesses pre- 
eminently the gift of presenting concrete fact rather than 
abstraction,” and a “great grasp of character,” enabling him 
“to show us the human heart and intellect in full play and 
activity” — both of which endowments were the supreme 
characteristics of the author of Nicholas Nickleby and David 
Copperfield, 

The novel of Coppee wherein the qualities which distin- 
guish Dickens are most clearly and effectively displayed is 
Le Coupable, published in 1897, it is most fitting that 
the first English translation of it should appear when 
preparations are making to celebrate the hundredth anni- 
versary of the birth of Dickens. 

No more significant tribute than this could be paid to 
the genius of him who first gave to fiction humanitarian 
purpose. Le Coupable^ freely and forcibly rendered by 
the translator 2& The Guilty Man, is a story of a maimed 
victim of the maladjustment of our social machinery, and 
it will arouse in every good man or woman who reads it 
the desire to do his or her part, not only in alleviating the 
miseries of similar victims in real life, but also in prevent- 
ing such maiming in the future »>utting the social ma- 
chine in proper gear, running to me ivine rhythm of the 
Cosmos, the universe of order and beauty. 

The reader of the story in the present English transla- 
tion, which has been authorized by the owner of the French 
copyright, will miss nothing of its power in the original. 


INTRODUCTION 


5 


and will find that the loss of certain nuances of art which no^ 
translator of Coppee can exactly reproduce is compensated 
for by shadings of expression native to the genius of Eng- 
lish literature, which evoke equivalent, even though not 
identical, aesthetic effects. In a few instances the trans- 
lator has corrected what evidently were slips in the psychol- 
ogy of the story, suppressing, for example, the account of 
a theft by the little “culprit” prior to the one which Coppee 
comments upon as the first. In short, the purpose of the 
translator has been to efface the impression from the reader’s 
mind that he is reading an alien book. For one, I can say 
that its effect has been as if I had come upon an hitherto 
unpublished story of Charles Dickens. 

Marion Mills Miller. 

The Dickens Fellowship, 

New York. 




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CONTENTS 


CHAPTER PAGE 

I. Father and Son ii 

IL In the Latin Quarter. .. . . . . •.. . 27 

III. Frangois and Heloise 34 

IV. Christian and Perrinette 51 

V. The Desertion 66 

VI. The Birth of Christian Forgeat 80 

VII. The Motherless Child 91 

VIII. The Two Street Arabs 105 

IX. The Child Culprit . 119 

X. The Reformatgry . 132 

XL The Discipline Chamber 150 

XII. The Father’s Repentance 166 

XIII. The Struggle for Work 185 

XIV. The Murder 213 

XV. The Father’s Awakening ........ 222 

XVI. The Torture of Uncertainty. . . . . . . 239 

XVII. Recognition . . . .. 248 

XVIII. The Unexpected Testimony 260 

XIX. The Trial 278 

XX. The Verdict 290 

XXL Expiation 305 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


PAGE 

There was an expression of frenzied joy even 

in the pose of the arm Frontispiece 45 \/ 

It was then that he realized how his feelings 

had changed 35^ 

“Halt! Attention!” This military order was 

issued in a superior way 132*^ 

“If that ever happens again you will be put in 

the dungeon” 1431 

The unfortunate child and man had suffered so 
intensely that his crime seemed a deliver- 
ance 22 1 

“When I was a child I too had a mother who 

loved me” 272^ 

“Have mercy, gentlemen of the Jury, I am the 

guilty man” 298*'' 

“Henceforth, my son, you belong to your 

father’' 3031/ 


THE GUILTY MAN 


CHAPTER I 

FATHER AND SON 

Atmosphere and all weather conditions have a 
great influence on the development of character and 
temperament. The region of the Calvados is 
famous for its leaden, clouded sky, which is very 
depressing but not rhore so than was the colorless life 
that young Christian Lescuyer had led in the town 
of Caen in the heart of that district. He had just 
reached his twenty-second birthday, and so indelibly 
were his surroundings stamped on his mind that he 
did not know how to enjoy the occasional beautiful 
days which shone on his native town. It seemed as 
though he had never seen the sunshine, as though 
the rain had come down in torrents as long as he 
could remember. 

The house in which he was born (and it is a 


12 


THE GUILTY MAN 


question whether or not the gift of existence 
had been a boon) — this house to which the word 
“home” could never be applied — was built by young 
Lescuyer’s grandfather toward the end of Louis 
XV’s reign. Of all the dismal houses on the aristo- 
cratic “Rue des Carmes”, this one was unquestion- 
ably the most dismal. The entire street, in fact, 
constituted the section where the best families had 
always lived, and it presented as a whole an ap- 
pearance of gloom and sadness. There was but one 
sign of life and energy in the neighborhood: at the 
end of the little street called St. John, the white- 
bonneted, blue-bloused peasant throng gathered on 
market day, and there, too, Scandinavian sailors 
might frequently be seen unloading large bars of 
soap. But the “Rue des Carmes” would know noth- 
ing of this activity. It abominated the work of the 
people, their vulgar tumult, and kept its aristocratic 
windows tightly closed. 

The interior of the Lescuyer house was quite in 
accord with its exterior: if possible, it was even 
more gloomy. The rooms breathed out an air of 
aloofness, and provincial avarice was apparent 
everywhere. 


THE GUILTY MAN 


13 


On five or six occasions during the year, Monsieur 
Lescuyer, pere, entertained his colleagues at din- 
ner. The courses were served warm, but were im- 
mediately frozen by the icy conversation of the host. 
In the room back of the dining-hall, where one was 
in danger of contracting a deadly inflammation of 
the lungs, the family portraits of the house of Les- 
cuyer were hung. They had all been lawyers, for 
more than a century, and were pictured in robes 
and wigs. They cast a black look at you from the 
very depths' of their oval frames, as if you were on 
the stand and they were about to submit you to a 
grilling cross-examination. 

If you ascended to the first floor and entered the 
private study of Monsieur Lescuyer, the effect was 
even more depressing. There was a vast library filled 
with law books, from the in-folio collections of the 
‘‘Customs of the Middle Ages” in their faded bind- 
ings, to the endless “Bulletin of Law.” This mass 
of volumes and medley of jurisprudence and legal 
procedure brought to mind immediately the great 
difference between law and justice. What infinite 
trouble men have taken since the origin of so- 
ciety in order to fight against and stamp out, by 


14 


THE GUILTY MAN ^ 

means of written rules, the inherent relics of bar- 
barism in their own natures! One could not help 
reflecting that the old books with their ungilded 
bindings, which recorded punishments now obsolete 
and tortures long since abolished, gave evidence of 
tenets as unjust and meaningless as those of the 
modern code. Does not the latter, in a proceeding 
involving possibly four cents, overwhelm the de- 
fendant with an avalanche of stamped papers of such 
a confusing nature as to make him regret that the 
trial by cudgelling is not now enforced? 

It was in this study, among all these mute printed 
witnesses of the powerlessness of the human family 
to show itself to be in the right in the simplest ques- 
tion, that Counsellor Lescuyer spent the greater part 
of his time. As he sat at his desk he was literally 
surrounded by a sea of briefs. 

This exacting, upright, hard-working man, reflect- 
ing an unusually austere attitude toward life, unsym- 
pathetic, even brutal at times, had degenerated into 
a mere machine for the consideration of legal tracts. 
He was now, at the end of the year 1866, about to 
reach his fiftieth birthday. During his rather long 
career his advancement had been very slow, and he 


THE GUILTY MAN 


15 


had not received the decoration of the Legion of 
Honor. 

His hard, cold face expressed pride and egotism. 
He was, in a word, the type of man who was born 
to preside at a revolutionary tribunal or take an 
active part in some abominable torture of the 
Inquisition. 

And this was the man with whom young Lescuyer 
had spent his youth. He had been brought up in 
this dull house with his stern, relentless father, for 
whom he had a terrific respect, as his sole companion. 

At the age of twenty-two, when he was about to 
submit to the faculty of Caen his thesis for entrance 
to the profession of his forbears, he had not one 
agreeable recollection of childhood or young man- 
hood. No one had ever loved him. His mother 
died of milk fever a few days after his birth, 
and there was not even a picture of her in the house. 

In moments of self-depreciation, Christian Les- 
cuyer would call himself ungrateful because he did 
not love his father. But how could he have affection 
for a father whom he had feared ever since he could 
remember? He shuddered reminiscently as he 
thought of the terror that voice and look had in- 


i6 


THE GUILTY MAN 


spired in him as a child. Why had he never jumped 
on his father’s knee, why had he never kissed him? 

When he had distinguished himself at school and 
longed for paternal praise, the most he ever 
received was a cold “That’s good.” How he had 
hungered for a word of encouragement 1 He was a 
docile child and had never resisted his father’s au- 
thority: he feared him too much for that. If this 
poor, starved little soul could only have had the 
occasional word of tenderness which it craved! 

The boy was naturally so timid and reserved that 
he had not been able to form one of those college 
friendships which are a blessing of youth. There 
was one young fellow, who was on a different social 
plane, to whom Christian felt himself drawn by a 
bond of sympathy. It was probably the similarity 
of their lonely lives which was the attraction. In 
scholarship, this lad was the very antithesis of Chris- 
tian. Of small intellect and little application he 
had never attained a creditable standing in his 
classes, whereas the studious, brilliant mind of young 
Lescuyer had brought him to the foremost rank. 

Francois Donadieu was an orphan, and Christian 
felt for him on that account. Everything about the 


THE GUILTY MAN 


17 


boy appealed to him. He admired the lad — an in- 
dolent, rebellious little gamin whose only success at 
school was in drawing, and whose greatest delight 
was in defying the instructors and then passing hide- 
ous caricatures of them around the class-room for 
general inspection. 

It was clearly a case of the attraction of opposite 
types. Christian admired tremendously a spirit 
which the limitations of his nature did not permit 
him to imitate. He made advances to this imp of 
mischief, which Frangois voluntarily accepted, for he 
had an affectionate disposition. The professors 
looked with great disfavor upon this friendship, but 
Frangois was very proud of his intimacy with the 
head of the class, and it was only when Christian 
commenced to moralize and advise him about his 
studies that he would object. 

‘T hate Latin, I don’t like the smell of ink, and 
I am only happy with a piece of charcoal in my 
hand,” he would say. “I want to go to Paris and 
study color and form under a master, but what am 
I to do? I am a poor orphan without a sou.” 

“Have I ever told you about my father’s sister in 
Paris?” he asked one day. “She is poor, too, — has 


THE GUILTY MAN 


a small book shop on the Rue St. Jacques — and I 
spend all my vacation time with her. She loves me 
and is very good to me ; but whenever I write to her 
that I dislike college and want to study art, the poor 
soul is frightened and begs me to finish my course 
here. If it were not for her, I’d run away from 
here to-morrow. But I know it would break her 
heart,” he added, ruefully. 

Christian’s sad, quiet nature spared him those 
inner tempests which Frangois had to fight. He was 
to follow the career of the Lescuyer family, the law. 
Ever since he was old enough to understand, his 
father had impressed that upon him. He was per- 
fectly satisfied; he did not think of rebelling against 
family tradition, but he admired the courage of his 
fourteen-year-old companion who had chosen his own 
profession. 

The friendship of the two boys was brought to an 
abrupt close, for Frangois soon had an opportunity 
to leave the school which he so thoroughly detested : 
in fact, he had no choice in the matter. There was 
a great midnight revel in the dormitory one night, 
and the teacher who tried to quell the disturbance 
received a black eye as his just due for interference. 


THE GUILTY MAN 


19 


For this Frangois was expelled, although it must be 
said to his credit that he was not the worst offender. 
He was delighted at the opportunity of returning to 
Paris. Christian was very lonesome for his com- 
panion, to whom he had become greatly attached, 
but he formed no other friendship during his 
course. 

Small wonder that when Christian reached his 
majority he was extremely lonesome and introspec- 
tive ! The influences which had been brought to bear 
upon his childhood could have had no other effect. 
He made several brave attempts at boyish dissipa- 
tion, but his allowance of five francs a week would 
not permit a continuance of these pleasures. On 
one occasion he got into debt for a small sum, and 
his father’s attitude was so severe that he decided to 
resist all future temptation. In consequence he 
plunged himself the more deeply into his work, and 
long walks given up to silent revery constituted his 
sole distraction. 

He attended one dinner given by his father, and 
the frigidity was so intense that he was seized with 
despair at the prospect of a lifetime spent with such 
companions as his father’s friends. 


20 


THE GUILTY MAN 


Counsellor Lescuyer took no part in the social 
activity of Caen, but he was most punctilious about 
one fortnightly visit, and insisted that his son accom- 
pany him. He had a deep motive for calling so 
regularly on Madame Leger-Taburet, who owned 
the most beautiful house on the “Rue des Carmes.” 
She was a widow and lived alone with her niece, who 
would some day inherit her aunt’s large fortune. 
The old lady was the talk of the neighborhood, and 
her niggardliness was proverbial. Whenever her 
name was mentioned some one would invariably 
tell the celebrated grape story. Sh^ was very proud 
of her grape arbor and made it a habit to ask : “Have 
you ripe grapes in your garden?” “No,” was the 
usual reply. That was her cue to answer, as if it 
were a personal triumph: “Oh, I have!” — but she 
was never known to offer any to her visitors. One 
day she asked the usual question, when two old maid 
sisters were visiting her. They gave the stereotyped 
answer, and she asked to be excused for a few min- 
utes. They saw her go into the garden and when 
she returned she handed each of them two grapes. 
Her attempted generosity provided fresh material 
for the gossips, who made good use of this story. 


THE GUILTY MAN 


2T 


This was the inspiring visit which Christian had 
to live through every third Sunday, and he accepted 
it along with the rest of his monotonous existence as 
though it had to be. Occasionally he exchanged a 
few words with the sixteen-ye,ar-old niece, whose 
repressed bringing up had made her very timid and 
retiring. She was not at all pretty and she dressed 
like a perfect frump, but her face was agreeable and 
she had a pleasant smile. 

As Lescuyer, pere et ills, were walking home 
after one of these enlivening visits, the father told 
his son the reason for his regularity. “Do you 
know,” said the counsellor, “that Miss Camille will 
inherit 18,000 francs? Her aunt is determined that 
she shall marry a lawyer. Of course, it is well 
known that the Chief Justice thinks his son will win 
her, but the young man is a drunkard and has failed 
in his third examination to enter the law. I am sure 
that you will be the favored suitor, and I want you 
to commence your attentions to Miss Camille as soon 
as you have finished your work at college.” 

This evidence of interest on his father’s part 
pleased Christian very much, and his barren soul 
treasured up»this conversation for years. The dowry 


22 


THE GUILTY MAN 


was of secondary importance to him, but his color- 
less life seemed brightened by the possibility of an 
attachment. He often dreamed now of hours spent 
with his fiancee under the famous trellis, where he 
hoped they would be left alone. 

These love dreams came to an abrupt end. 
Shortly after the conversation which raised Chris- 
tian’s hopes to a high emotional plane, his father 
made a plan for him which resulted in a complete 
change of outlook. The counsellor summoned 
Christian to his office one day and the boy entered 
in fear and trembling. Never had his father’s face 
seemed more set and relentless. 

“My son,” he began in a frigid tone, “I have 
decided on a very serious course for you. I want you 
to earn the degree of Doctor of Laws, as I have, 
and I am therefore going to send you to Paris to 
accomplish this purpose. You will have to work 
very diligently for two years. I realize all the dan- 
gers to which your weak nature will be subjected in 
a large city, but I am willing to risk them for the 
benefit of the legal training you will receive. I shall 
make due allowance for a few dissipations, but shall 
be absolutely unforgiving if you misuse your liberty. 


THE GUILTY MAN 


23 


“I have not forgotten our conversation of the 
other day,’* he continued, “and shall keep on visiting 
the aunt and niece very regularly, after you have 
gone. By the time you return, I shall have arranged 
the entire matter and then you will marry Miss 
Camille and receive the dowry. You will find this 
indispensable in your career. 

“We shall begin our good-bye visits to-morrow. 
You will reach Paris in time to matriculate: the 
course begins on the third of November. I shall 
give you letters of introduction to my friends,” he 
said with visible pride. “I want you to become 
friendly with worthy Monsieur Lherbager, who will 
be of service to you. You will cultivate the 
acquaintance of only such people as will further 
your interests. 

“Despite the temptations of the Latin Quarter, 
you will live there because it is near the college. 
Your allowance will be 250 francs a month. I got 
along on much less. Get ready at once to leave, and 
above all don’t thank me. I expect you to carry out 
to the letter all the valuable advice I have given 
you.” 

Monsieur Lescuyer broke the news of freedom, of 


24 


THE GUILTY MAN 


the glorious possibility of a taste of liberty, as if he 
were reading his son’s death warrant. Not once 
during the entire conversation did his face light up. 

Christian reeled as he left his father’s office. The 
idea was too new ; he could not grasp it. He — to be 
free? It was impossible. He — was going to live in 
Paris. He — was to see the Latin Quarter, which 
fired the imagination of all students. They spoke of 
it as though it were the “Promised Land,” and now 
he was to live there ; and above all, he was to be his 
own master, — his own master : to have a latch key in 
his pocket. He — was to have money to spend with- 
out giving an account of every sou. 

He thought again of his father’s manner as he 
told him the glorious news. How could he have 
been so cold? His indifference was like that of a 
jailer who releases a prisoner, one of many, in whom 
he has no interest. If he had only shown one sign 
of tenderness, one vestige of emotion I It seemed 
foreordained that confidence and affection should 
not exist between these two beings, who should have 
been so dear to each other. The boy felt that he 
was going to leave his father’s house with the joy 
which a dog would feel if he were to have his leash 


THE GUILTY MAN 


25 


removed, at the same time his instinct telling 
him that sooner or later he would be under the 
tyranny of his master again. How he wished that 
it might have been otherwise, but even in his pros- 
pect of new-found freedom he knew that he could 
think of his father only with fear. 

The few days which he spent at home before his 
departure seemed everlasting. He was nervous and 
restless, but felt absolutely no regret at leaving. 
And why should he have felt it? He had been bored 
ever since he could remember in the dull town and 
duller home of his birth. 

The time came for him to bid Camille and her 
aunt good-bye. It was then that he realized how his 
feelings had changed in so short a time. He was 
amazed to find that he could not now abide the 
thought of marrying Camille; she seemed positively 
ugly to him, and above all she was only a child : would 
she ever be womanly? He dismissed the matter 
from his mind, refusing to permit a vague possibility 
of the remote future to disturb his present peace 
of mind. 

At last — the day arrived. One of the proverbial 
disagreeable, cloudy days to which he had grown 


26 


THE GUILTY MAN 


accustomed. His father came to the station to see 
him off, but even at the last moment did not unbend. 
Christian was conscious of a wonderful sense of 
freedom as the train pulled out, and then he re- 
proached himself for having a stone in the place 
where his heart ought to be. Had he no feeling for 
the father whom he was leaving, no longing for his 
home? 

As he gazed from the train window, fantastic 
shapes seemed to mock him. He had an idea that 
the clouds took the form of the masks on the fagade 
of his father’s house and that they followed him 
intently. , 


CHAPTER II 


IN THE LATIN QUARTER 

The Hotel De la Plata, on the Rue Racine, was 
patronized principally by students who came from 
Lower Normandy and by South American youths 
from Argentine. Here a table d’hote dinner was 
served which could not be excelled anywhere in the 
Latin Quarter. Every evening about a dozen young 
fellows were to be found there, seated around the 
table. The linen was seldom clean, but this unclean- 
liness did not trouble the diners in the least. Most 
of the chaps were from Normandy, where customs 
and living conditions are such as to have a quieting 
effect on temperament. These boys did not indulge 
in many excesses, but the same could not be said of 
the young South Americans, whose conduct often 
caused a scandal. They were well known for their 
frequent trips to the “Mont de Piete.” 

If early in the morning an unkempt girl should 


28 


THE GUILTY MAN 


lean over the balustrade and call for two cups of 
chocolate to be sent to Room No. 17, one 
might be quite sure that a citizen of Buenos Ayres 
occupied that room. But despite the tremendous 
differences in taste and ideas, the boys from Nor- 
mandy and those from South America lived to- 
gether, at this hotel, in a spirit of friendship and 
good fellowship. 

It was about six o’clock in the evening when 
Christian Lescuyer reached Paris. The cabby, in 
answer to his question as to where he could find a 
good hotel, drove him to the De La Plata. The 
porter, with an eye to business, showed him a room 
on the first floor, which he thought proper for a 
traveller with two trunks. As he opened the door 
he turned to Lescuyer and said : — 

“This is our best room, sir.” 

The room was hideous. Christian was disgusted 
with its appearance, but this impression did not last 
long. The maid came to change the soiled quilt and 
light the gas. After he had unpacked a few of his 
belongings, the place took on a more livable air, and 
as he looked around he breathed a deep sigh of 
relief and satisfaction. 


THE GUILTY MAN 


29 


“I am at home, this is mine alone !” he cried aloud. 

Then he raised the shade and looked out into the 
street. Directly opposite was a barber shop, where 
four or five young fellows were being shaved. 
Christian looked at them and wondered whether 
they were getting ready for a ball or theatre that 
night, and how long it would be before he too would 
be enjoying all the pleasures of Paris. The sense 
of freedom thrilled him again, and he determined 
to make the utmost use of his new-found liberty. 

The sound of a bell interrupted his train of 
thought. It reminded him that he was hungry, and 
he went down to the dining-room, where a crowd of 
young students was already seated. 

The sight of all these strange faces made him 
very timid, and he sat down modestly at the only 
vacant place. The waiter had shown him the special 
attention of arranging his napkin in the form of a 
bishop’s mitre. He felt miserably self-conscious, 
when all at once he heard some one exclaim; — 

“By Jove, it’s Lescuyer!” 

He looked up startled, and slowly the identity of 
his unknown friend dawned upon him. He recog- 
nized him as one of his fellow-students from Caen. 


30 


THE GUILTY MAN 


Yes, surely it was Mulot, the son of a very rich 
cattle dealer. 

The boys had never been very friendly, but Mulot 
was the type of man who called everyone “friend” 
in his easy, vulgar way, and Lescuyer, glad to have 
found someone he knew, permitted the intimacy. 

“Have you come to take your degree?” asked 
Mulot, “and is this your first visit to Paris? Cheer 
up, we’ll show you all the sights in the Quarter.” 

The ice was broken, the new comer was presented 
to all the company, and the conversation became 
very animated. It was on a par with the meal. If 
it had been less novel to Christian, he would have 
found it coarse and vulgar, but he gave himself up 
to the enjoyment of the moment, and felt pleased 
that he was one of the party. 

Some one ordered champagne and, such as it was, 
it increased the hilarity. Imitations were suggested 
and everyone had to do a turn. Each was 
greeted with a fresh burst of enthusiasm, but a youth 
of Saint Lo was the hit of the evening. He turned 
his back to the audience and gave a perfect repro- 
duction of the sound of a planing machine. That 
was indeed perfection I 


THE GUILTY MAN 


31 


After the coffee had been served, Mulot, who 
was the master of ceremonies, proposed that they 
go for a walk. That was only a cue for someone 
else to suggest a good glass of beer at a cafe near by, 
to which he would take the piarty. The place was 
well known as a meeting place for men of literary 
ability. New poems of aspiring writers were read 
every night, and one always had a good time there. 

Of course the beer was not excellent, but at least 
it had an odor of hops, and Christian Lescuyer 
thought it quite the best he had ever tasted. For 
him it was the elixir of freedom. All at once Mulot 
looked at his watch. 

“Boys, it’s after eleven o’clock, and I have a 
rendez-vous with Clarisse for half-past ten at 
Leonie’s wine shop.” 

This suggestion was again sufficient, and the whole 
crowd proceeded to go to the next place on the list 
for a whiskey. In 1868 wine shops kept by women 
had not come into general popularity. Later they be- 
came the rage. This particular tavern was kept by 
Leonie, who was once known as the beauty of the 
Quarter. Now she was vulgar and showed not a 
visible trace of her former good looks. It was con- 


32 


THE GUILTY MAN 


sidered quite ‘‘en regie” for everyone to drink more 
than his capacity, and it was only a prig who was not 
tipsy by quarter after twelve. 

Thither went the guests of the La Plata. They 
entered the wine shop in Indian file and were met 
at the door by Mulot’s mistress, who was enraged 
because he had kept her waiting so long. He 
succeeded in pacifying her, so that by the time 
the whiskey was served, everyone was in high spir- 
its. Then someone ordered beer for all, and the 
surprise of the evening was a new kind of punch. 

After this, Christian, who had never taken a drop 
before in his entire lifetime, felt that his ideas were 
becoming badly confused. He retained a dim recol- 
lection of being forcibly shown the door, with 
the rest of his companions, at a quarter past mid- 
night. In the midst of the jollity, he had vaguely 
heard the coarse voice of Leonie saying — 

“Out with you, you’ve all had enough.” 

When he came out into the night air his limbs 
refused to move, and he could not walk a step with- 
out the help of two of his companions. Despite his 
objections and the defiance he hurled at the boys, 
they knew the symptoms, and kept on leading him. 


THE GUILTY MAN 


33 


In subconsciousness he seemed aware of the carry- 
ings on during the walk home. The deserted street, 
the wild imitations of animals, the tearing of one 
another’s clothes, and the carrying of a sign from 
an orphans’ home to the opposite building, “Select 
School for Young Ladies.” His final impres- 
sion was of falling up the stairs, and of several un- 
successful attempts to find the keyhole — and then he 
remembered no more. 

Next morning, he awoke with the feeling that 
he had been the toy of a cyclone, again that he had 
been rolling and pitching on a boat in the teeth of a 
gale. He became conscious of a dull, burning sensa- 
tion at the base of his brain and a brassy taste in his 
mouth, and then he began to wonder why his pillow 
was on the floor and why he had gone to bed with- 
out even having removed his shoes. This night of 
riot and debauchery was his initiation to the Latin 
Quarter. 


CHAPTER III 


FRANCOIS AND HELOISE 

Just a week after this delightful dissipation (of 
which Lescuyer was a bit ashamed) he matriculated 
at the Law School. A student by nature, he devoted 
himself zealously to his new work, and, for addi- 
tional training, spent several hours a day under the 
supervision of his father’s friend. Monsieur Mal- 
herbes. He continued to spend his evenings with 
his new associates, but soon found their pleasures 
uninteresting and vulgar. 

After dinner, the Norman clique induced Christian 
to join them at their cafe, where each one had his 
own pipe, left on a long rack. Their topics of con- 
versation were always coarse and trifling. There 
were discussions as to the real or supposed fortune 
of their country friends in town, conjectures about 
their own outlook in their chosen profession, and, 
most important of all, about the size of the dowries 



JT WAS THEN THAT HE KEALIZED HOW HIS FEELINGS 


HAD CHANGED. 

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THE GUILTY MAN 


35 


they might hope for to pay the cost of their studies. 

These repetitions wearied and disgusted Chris- 
tian, and he never entered into them. He maintained 
a dull 'silence. Clarisse, the vulgar mistress of 
Mulot, was usually his table neighbor, and she spent 
the time in studying the illustrated magazines, while 
her lover played his game of billiards. These were 
indeed empty, heavy, tiring hours. Occasionally the 
stupid conversation was interrupted by the thick 
voice of Mulot, crying out : — 

“Hurrah, this is great, — a regular fluke !” 

There was another crowd of students at this 
tavern, whom Christian judged to be very brilliant 
and pretentious. On one or two occasions they 
invited him to join them . . . they were indeed high 
livers I The young law student was presented, while 
with them, to a very beautiful young woman, whom 
he escorted home one evening, but her diction was 
so poor that Christian became completely disillu- 
sioned when she told him of an experience of 
the previous summer. She had been a jille 
de service at a fashionable watering-place, from 
which she had been dismissed on a suspicion of 
theft. Throughout her entire lifetime she would 


36 


THE GUILTY MAN 


never cease regretting that she had not accepted the 
fervid love of the pedicure who had been so very 
much in earnest. 

The shy, sensitive nature of the young student 
finally revolted at this environment, and he found 
himself wondering whether, outside of the boun- 
daries of the Latin Quarter, there were not another 
Paris which accorded with the ideal existing in the 
minds of the young devotees of Balzac who were 
gifted with pregnant imaginations. It seemed as 
remote to him as the impenetrable wilds marked on 
the map Hie sunt leones. 

Nevertheless, he tried to increase his circle of ac- 
quaintance by presenting the letters of introduction 
given him by his father. Of what benefit? They 
only served to bring him several invitations to dis- 
mal evenings which were indelibly connected in his 
mind with very homely women and lack of refresh- 
ments. Poor Christian was reminded, with a shud- 
der, of the frigid facial expressions ank the stiff 
cravats for which he had not lost his childish terror. 
As to the old attorney to the Court of Paris, the very 

worthy Monsieur L (as his father spoke of 

him), he looked exactly like a death’s head with 


THE GUILTY MAN 


37 


white whiskers. Christian dined with him en famille 
and carried away the impression of an occasion as 
joyous as the last meal of the bivouac of the Grand 
Army, on the outskirts of the Beresina. He was 

ill at ease with the austere Madame L , whose 

silence was oppressive, and he was conscious of a 
violent dislike for the two sly sons of the house, who 
scarcely raised their eyes from their plates and spoke 
only of the sermons preached by a Jesuit minister 
during Advent. 

Christian’s condition was truly a lonely, deplor- 
able one! His anticipation and the realization of 
freedom and life in Paris were diametrically op- 
posed. He was completely discouraged by his un- 
fortunate attempt to go into society; disgusted with 
his Norman associates, who were so vulgar; out 
of sympathy with his exotic companions, who were 
posers. The result of this condition of mind was the 
usual one : he turned to his work for distraction, and 
applied himself so aptly to it that he won the ap- 
proval of his masters. 

Despite his application, he was the victim of an 
inner restlessness which he could not satisfy. In a 
word, he was completely bored, his heart being 


38 


THE GUILTY MAN 


empty, and his senses demanding gratification. In 
desperation he walked out under the chestnut trees 
of the Luxembourg, conscious of melancholy — the 
same unfulfilled desires which he had known in his 
narrow life in Caen. 

The lovely spring in Paris, with its lilac-scented 
air, served only to increase the depression of the 
lonely student. He asked himself constantly and 
with pardonable bitterness what use he had made 
of his long-hoped-for liberty. A distaste for study 
took hold of him, and a habit of introspection, the 
unfailing sign of nervous exhaustion, replaced it. 
His evenings were now spent in long walks through 
the dusty suburbs of Paris. 

One afternoon, about four o’clock, as Christian 
was returning from his walk, he sauntered mechani- 
cally to the Place de VOhservatoire and joined the 
other loiterers, who had formed a circle around a 
foreigner performing athletic feats for their amuse- 
ment. 

The man arrested the attention of all the on- 
lookers. In his sweater of dirty white and tiger-skin 
breeches, with a bracelet of black leather on his 
right arm, he was indeed a handsome animal. 


THE GUILTY MAN 


39 


At just the moment when Christian joined the crowd, 
the athlete was about to raise a weight of one hun- 
dred kilos on his outstretched arm, to the accom- 
paniment of a dilapidated organ which ground out 
a polka long years out of date. 

Someone in the crowd standing behind Christian 
exclaimed : 

“That’s splendid; see the muscles of his forearm, 
that’s the way to do it.” 

Christian turned to see the speaker, and was at- 
tracted by a jolly-looking young fellow wearing a 
peculiar-looking hat and a vest spotted and stained 
with loam. His blond beard and red hair seemed 
to sparkle in the sunlight. 

“Great Scott,” said the youth, “there’s little 
Christian! Is it possible! Don’t you know me? 
Donadieu? Frangois Donadieu, your school chum 
at Caen?” 

As Christian recognized him, his heart began to 
throb. In the flash of an instant, he recalled his 
happiest recollection, the only friendship of his 
youth. 

“Frangois, my dear friend,” said he, extending 
both his hands. 


40 


THE GUILTY MAN 


Attention! the performing Hercules was going 
to raise the “200” weight again. “Just a second, 
my little school friend,” said Frangois, “only see 
that biceps! What a shoulder the fellow has — his 
physique is heroic — what a splendid model he would 
be for my new statue! Hurrah, there, Samson!” 

The artist proved his enthusiasm by throwing a 
handful of change to the athlete, who, now that his 
piece de resistance had been executed, stood posing 
for the gallery. 

“Ladies and gentlemen, I thank you,” he said. 

Donadieu passed his arm affectionately through 
Christian’s, and hurried along with him. 

“How strangely people meet again after a num- 
ber of years I Here is the little Christian, teacher’s 
pet, who tried so hard to make a student of me, a 
digger of Greek roots. You see, dear old boy, that 
would never have done. I have followed the advice 
of Gavarni, ‘You are not fitted for anything — be an 
artist.’ Yes, my boy, I am a sculptor, pupil of Car- 
peaux. My master is a severe critic, and amazed 
me the other day when he pronounced my uncom- 
pleted statue excellent. That’s what makes a fel- 
low feel like working, I tell you. 


THE GUILTY MAN 


41 


“But I am ashamed of my egotism, talking only 
of myself. Tell me your plans. How long will you 
be in Paris?” 

“For two years at least,” answered Christian. “I 
am working for my degree.” 

“That’s great; we shall be pals again as we were 
in school days. Are you free this eve: ing?” 

“Yes.” 

“Then let’s make an appointment,” said Dona- 
dieu enthusiastically. 

“Come and see my Homme au Trophee, my 
‘birch-rod’ for the Salon. My studio is only fifteen 
minutes’ walk from here. It is not very pretentious, 
but it’s the. best I can afford and I’m satisfied. Very 
frequently I have to do several days’ work to make 
both ends meet, — to pay my rent and my models. I 
make clocks and bronze candelabra to suit the taste 
of the peasants. But what’s the difference? I have 

my corner in which I work, and who knows ? 

Maybe some day I shall receive a commission to 
model the bust of the President, and then I shall 
give dinners with truffles under the napkins, butlers 
with white gloves and all the other evidences of 
luxury. Who knows? I was telling myself that this 


42 


THE GUILTY MAN 


morning, when I sat down to my four sous’ worth of 
Italian cheese. 

“But, my dear Christian, I am glad to see you 
again ” 

Christian felt his depression the more keenly on 
account of Donadieu’s lightheartedness. 

“Tell me all about your life since you left school,” 
said Christian. 

“Things have been going pretty badly with me 
since the death of my aunt. She died when I was 
seventeen and left me, a gamin of the streets of 
Paris, with no inheritance but a few old books. 

“That was interesting, wasn’t it?” he continued, 
bursting into a hearty laugh. “Can you imagine 
my living for more than six months on the proceeds 
of the sale of the old books? I named my clothes 
after the authors to whose works I owed the cover- 
ing of my body. I had a soft hat, wjhich I called 
my ‘Marquis de Foudras,’ a pair of shoes, the 
‘Mysteries of Paris.’ My reserve stock was a com- 
plete edition of Alexandre Dumas. I translated 
‘Monte Cristo’ and the ‘Three Musketeers’ in my 
own mind into little rolls, sausages and bits of 
cheese. 


THE GUILTY MAN 


43 


“Here is my corner,” said Donadieu, “to the 
right. Here we are.” A sign which read “Leflo— 
Hot milk supplied night and morning,” attracted 
the attention of Christian. 

“This is my studio,* exclaimed the artist, with 
mock gravity. 

Christian’s quick eye took in the details of his 
friend’s quarters: several small plaster figures on a 
plank, three straw footstools, an iron stove with a 
long bent pipe, and on the sculptor’s bench a huge 
figure covered with damp cloths. And that was all. 
The cold northern light, which came through a large 
aperture in the ceiling, seemed to emphasize the 
squalor and misery of the scene. 

“You live here?” queried Christian, not without 
a touch of compassion. 

“I even sleep here,” answered Donadieu gayly, as 
he pointed to a pallet of straw, partly hidden by a 
ragged screen. “I prepared you for a lack of lux- 
ury. But don’t pity me. I am about to break a 
1 00-franc note, which I earned at a bronze factory 
last week, and to-morrow I shall be able to con- 
tinue working on my statue which pleased the mas- 
ter. And, my little Christian, I invite you to be my 


44 


THE GUILTY MAN 


guest at dinner to-night,” continued Donadieu, un- 
able to restrain his high spirits. 

“A friend of mine will join us; she is only a little 
seamstress, but she looks just like Titian’s mistress, 
whose picture hangs in the Salon Carre. One of us 
is as poor as the other, so we have every right, 
haven’t we, without conceit, to think we are in love 
just for love’s sake? 

“To devote oneself to a profession one truly en- 
joys, to adore a sweet young woman with the hope 
that your love will last forever, and to be young in 
spirit, is all the happiness a mortal can ask. 

“If I live and if I make a success of my work, I 
suppose I shall repeat over and over again like a 
parrot, ‘Those were the good old days ’ 

“But do sit down. I want to uncover my creation 
and hear your opinion of it.” 

The quick agile hands of the artist removed the 
covering, and the statue of gray wet plaster was dis- 
closed. It was the figure of a barbarian, a Gaul or 
a Samnite, the torso nude. In his outstretched right 
hand he held a heavy trophy of eagles and fasces 
wrested from his mighty foes, the Romans. There 


THE GUILTY MAN 


45 


was an expression of frenzied joy to be read even 
in the pose of the arm. 

Christian stood before the mighty figure, thrilled 
to trembling with the emotion caused by its power. 
This one and only magnificent work of art stood tri- 
umphant in its impoverished environment, casting 
over all the details of its miserable surroundings an 
almost holy light, which filled the senses of the spec- 
tator with an impression of the severe beauty of a 
barbaric temple. 

“Inspiring, magnificent!” said Christian, over- 
come. 

Donadieu stood a few feet from the statue, with 
his gaze riveted upon it, an anxious frown on his 
forehead. His fingers were nervously rolling a 
cigarette. 

“Well, it is not so bad, my ‘birch-rod’ for the 
Academy — but I am not quite satisfied, because my 
model is too old a man. L want to ask that athlete 
whom we saw in the street to come here to pose for 
me. The arm is too flabby to bring out my mean- 
ing. All the muscles must cry ‘Victory.’ ” 

At this moment, the conversation was interrupted 
by the entrance of a young girl of twenty years, a bit 


46 


THE GUILTY MAN 


stout for her age, but as fair as the sun’s rays, and 
despite her poor clothes as fresh as the bunch of pan- 
sies in her hand. She came in without knocking. A 
beautiful smile lit up her face. 

“My dear little comrade,” exclaimed Donadieu, 
kissing her affectionately on both cheeks. “Heloise, 
this is my friend Christian. We have known each 
other since our knickerbocker days. You know, 
dearie, I am going to break the lOO-franc note and 
take you both out to dinner.” 

“Oh, I am so glad, my little lord,” said the girl, 
with a charming laugh infectious with its joy and 
good nature. “Our dessert will be a surprise, but 
you must have your favorite omelette aux con- 
fitures. 

“But here, dearie, you see I have been thinking 
of you,” she added, handing him a small package. 

“What a pretty tie! Thank you, darling,” he 
said, kissing her again. As he took off his jacket to 
try the new effect, she said : 

“Oh, see there, your sleeve is torn again. Give it 
to me. I’ll sew it for you.” 

She quickly removed her gloves and hat, seated 
herself, threaded her needle, and began to sew. 


THE GUILTY MAN 


47 


while Donadieu replaced the cloths on his statue. 

Christian underwent a great emotional change as 
he watched with envy this simple little scene so ex- 
pressive of companionship and love. 

“These two beautiful free beings,” he mused, 
“poor, it’s true, but wonderfully happy.” How 
completely they were enjoying their youth and how 
they loved each other ! Every second they exchanged 
glances, and their smile spoke volumes of the love 
which they felt. 

The three went out to dine at the Moulin des 
Vierges, After coffee, the two friends discussed 
their early days at great length. One anecdote sug- 
gested another, and so it was quite late before Chris- 
tian said good-night to Heloise and Francois, at the 
door of the former’s lodging-house. 

As he left them, he was conscious of a regret at 
meeting Frangois again, and of a disapproval of his 
mode of life, and yet these emotions were battling 
against an impulse and a hope that he too would 
meet a young girl who would be as devoted to him 
as was Heloise to her petit Dieu. 

Two days later the young student repaid his obli- 
gation by inviting Frangois and Heloise to dine with 


48 


THE GUILTY MAN 


him at the restaurant Magny. The simple little 
girl of the Paris suburbs was quite overwhelmed by 
the splendor of her surroundings. Velvet curtains, 
gold frescoes, and bouillon in cups were a new expe- 
rience for her. 

After that, Christian visited the studio every day 
and wondered how he had ever got along before 
he met Frangois. He was attracted by the charm 
of bohemianism, which was to him as yet forbidden 
fruit. He carried his own trouble and the pardon- 
able curiosity of a chaste young man into this poor 
quarter where art and love flourished. 

One day, after the young athlete (who now came 
to pose for the statue) had left, Christian was 
seized with a desire to have all his doubts cleared 
up. Frangois stood in a revery before his com- 
pleted work, and suddenly Christian, with the 
brusqueness that is characteristic of timidity, ex- 
claimed: 

“How happy you are, my dear friend, in having 
found so charming a mistress. May I ask if this is 
your first affair?” 

The sculptor raised his shoulders and looked 
Christian straight in the eye. 


THE GUILTY MAN 


49 


“What do you take me for?” he answered with 
suppressed excitement In his voice. “Do you think I 
am one to ruin young girls? God forbid I I haven’t 
the right to preach morality, but purity Is sacred to 
me, — forbidden ground, my friend. As to Helolse, 
she confessed to me the misery of her unfortunate 
past. I am trying to make her forget her horrible 
childhood In companionship with one who loves 
her and whom she loves devotedly. And that Is the 
whole story.” 

“Then your friendship Is altogether serious?” 
answered Christian, showing the prudence of the 
country-bred. 

“Who can tell?” replied the artist. “We are very 
poor, she and I, — too poor to give a thought to the 
future. As soon as I have enough money to buy 
furniture and pay for a small apartment we shall live 
like husband and wife, and later we may marry. 
After we have gone along that way for several years 
and understand each other thoroughly, then — why 
not?” 

This lack of prejudice, and broad outlook on life. 
Impressed Christian .tremendously. Nevertheless, 
all his education and. In addition, a delicacy and 


50 


THE GUILTY MAN 


natural reserve protested against the ideas of his 
friend. By a rapid play of the imagination he saw 
himself happy with a companion of whose love he 
was sure, and immediately there arose before his 
mental vision the austere figure of his father. The 
old man stood before him, trembling with uncon- 
trollable rage, dismissed the girl, and insisted upon 
Christian’s return to Caen. 

Overcome with fear, realizing that under such 
circumstances he would give in and obey without 
resistance the demands of his father, he answered 
finally, as he thought, the “why not?” of Donadieu. 

“Yes, yes,” he said, “you are altogether free. 
You have no family.” 

And that day, Christian Lescuyer, despite the de- 
sire for happiness that gnawed at his heart, per- 
mitted his provincialism to gain its point, so terrified 
was he by the thought of seeking such companion- 
ship as Frangois enjoyed. 

Eight days later, his newly awakened nature as- 
serted itself. 


CHAPTER IV 


CHRISTIAN AND PERRINETTE 

The meeting occurred, under the most common- 
place circumstances, one evening when Christian Les- 
cuyer had gone to the cafe with his Norman acquaint- 
ances. Mulot had just made a crack shot at bil- 
liards, when his Clarisse came in with a friend. 

Was she pretty? That depended on one’s taste. 
She certainly did not appeal to the coarse peasants, 
who admired large women of gross features and high 
color. But this little brunette, with her refined pro- 
file, pale coloring and simple head-dress attracted 
Christian immediately. He thought she suggested a 
graceful swallow, in her plain black attire. 

Mulot was too excited at his success in the game 
to pay any attention to the two girls, so Christian 
entertained them and offered them refreshments. 

Between the serving of the three sodas which she 
ordered, Clarisse did not attempt to make conver- 
sation general, but described in detail to the other 
girl a new bodice which she had seen. 


52 


THE GUILTY MAN 


“It’s beautifully trimmed with ribbons, my dear, 
— very fetching,” she said. She was enjoying her- 
self in anticipation of her own appearance in this 
new creation. 

The brunette had more tact and felt the one-sided- 
ness of the conversation. 

“What town are you from?” she asked Christian 
by way of a change of topic. 

The question was not a keen one, but it served its 
own purpose. The young student realized the girl’s 
attempt to be polite, and her soft, sweet voice was 
agreeable to him. 

Then he asked her where she lived and quite 
naively she told him about herself. She was a 
Parisienne, an orphan, and supported herself by sell- 
ing flowers. Her name was Perrinette Forgeat, and 
she was twenty-two years old. All this was said in 
a quiet, gentle manner, with no sign of coquetry or 
evidence of trying to create an impression. 

Clarisse was full of the idea of the new style and 
made several attempts to continue her description 
of it. 

“You know, my dear, it has a military cut, like the 
one the Empress has on, in her latest photograph.” 


THE GUILTY MAN 


53 


Perrinette listened inattentively, but Clarisse was 
convinced that there are only two topics which can 
interest a woman: fashion and love. The former 
did not appeal to Perrinette in the least at present, 
but it was quite evident that the young student at- 
tracted her. 

Clarisse was not at all offended; on the contrary, 
she realized with the unfailing instinct of her sex 
that these two young people were irresistibly drawn 
to each other. She felt that she was quite as great 
a matchmaker as the dowager Duchess of Branlant, 
of whose success in that line she had read in the 
newspapers. 

“Well, friends,” she said, “it is after eleven 
o’clock. I know Mulot, he won’t give up his game 
of billiards until the proprietor turns out the lights. 
Monsieur Christian, will you be kind enough to 
escort Perrinette home?” 

“Indeed, I shall be glad to, if she will permit me,” 
he replied. 

“I shall be very gateful to you, — I live in a de- 
serted neighborhood,” said Perrinette. 

He arose eagerly and she put on her gloves. She 
kept her eyes lowered modestly, but, despite the re- 


54 


THE GUILTY MAN 


serve of Christian and Perrinette, Clarisse wore a 
knowing smile, and when they left the cafe together 
she said to herself: 

“Those dear little children, — I scent love in the 
air.” 

The lodging-house of Perrinette was not in reality 
so far away, but the young couple walked very 
slowly. They were so happy, sauntering along arm 
in arm on this warm June night. They thoroughly 
enjoyed their simple conversation, but we shall not 
repeat it. Firstly it would have no interest for us, 
and secondly, it was meant for their ears only. What 
is of so much importance to those in love often 
seems very tame to a disinterested outsider. 

If Perrinette’s first question as to his ambition 
thrilled Christian, it was only because she looked up 
at him with an expression which spoke volumes, and 
if his answer stirred her, it was because Christian’s 
voice expressed a greater emotion than the ordinary 
reply could otherwise have caused. 

What did they tell each other? The ears of the 
stars must indeed have been tired of hearing the 
same old story, which thousands of lovers had re- 
peated since the beginning of time. Perrinette and 


THE GUILTY MAN 


55 


Christian became so thoroughly absorbed that they 
lost their way. When they reached the Pantheon, 
they walked around and around the large monument. 
What were they saying now? The tone of the con- 
versation had certainly become more intimate and 
tender, for Christian’s arm was now around the 
girl’s waist. Their love-making became more ar- 
dent, and before they parted Christian had made a 
proposal to the girl which she accepted. 

And now he was to know life as his friend Fran- 
cois lived it! Did he love the girl? Yes, with all 
the ardor of a repressed nature long accustomed to 
the most severe inhibition. He was devoid of sen- 
suality, and loved her tenderly. He found her so 
refreshing, — ignorant yet not stupid, and having re- 
tained a quiet modesty despite her heedless life. 

Did he love her? He told her so in all good 
faith and meant it. He knew how to whisper love 
words sincere and sweet into a very receptive ear. 
The girl’s heart responded. 

Her state of mind was rather different from his. 
She loved him devotedly, more than she had cared 
for any one of her other six lovers, with whom she 
had wasted her youth. He was so gentle, so con- 


56 


THE GUILTY MAN 


siderate, she would not have deceived him, even to 
acquire her dearest wish, an ar moire a glace (ward- 
robe with a glass door) . However, experience had 
robbed her of all illusion: she realized fully that 
these happy hours could not last forever. She fore- 
saw the possibility of separation, without being de- 
pressed by it in advance. She was possessed of the 
reckless wisdom of an elementary intelligence. Of 
course, she loved Christian, with all the warmth of 
which she was capable. When her co-workers saw 
her smile quietly and asked, “What are you thinking 
about?” she answered, “Nothing,” but her thoughts 
were of him. 

However, what worth is attached to an emotion 
which has no certainty, not even the hope of con- 
tinuance? 

Christian and Perrinette spent all their evenings 
together, and on Sunday they invariably went out into 
the suburbs of Paris, sometimes alone, sometimes 
with Frangois and Heloise. The two women became 
very friendly. Heloise, big and stout, felt a certain 
confidence in her position and took a motherly inter- 
est in the delicate frail little Perrinette. The party 
of four enjoyed their outings immensely, spending 


THE GUILTY MAN 


57 


the time either in a hired canoe near the lovely weep- 
ing willow trees of Meudon or taking long walks 
in the fields, where the girls gathered wild flowers. 
At night, they returned to the city, when the peasants 
were singing their vespers. At the station there 
was invariably a scramble to get an outside place, 
which put everyone in good humor. 

The little unsophisticated country boy, the son of 
the austere Monsieur Lescuyer, had become com- 
pletely emancipated. 

Still he could not be accused of indiscretion. Per- 
rinette was a girl who understood her position, like 
thousands of other girls in Paris similarly placed. 
She was well dressed and well fed. What more 
could she ask? She went to her work every morn- 
ing. He had time to study and applied himself with 
energy. She was not an expensive luxury, nor was 
she in any way troublesome. Once in a while, never- 
theless, when Christian thought of his mode of life 
and that his father might come to know of it, a ter- 
ror seized hold of this boy who had been brought up 
in an atmosphere of fear. He trembled as in imagi- 
nation he saw himself a little child again and felt 
that his father might come in some morning to de- 


58 


THE GUILTY MAN 


nounce him. He could almost see the stiff white 
collar and the hard, relentless expression on the 
stern face. 

Childishly, he had told Donadieu of this haunting 
fear, and Donadieu had made all manner of fun of 
him. 

“On my word, there’s Papa,” cried Frangois one 
evening when the four friends were seated at a cafe 
on the boulevard Saint Michel. 

The three had a hearty laugh at Christian’s ex- 
pense, while he looked around terror-stricken — at an 
austere looking man who was not his father. 

Spring with all its pleasant days was passing 
quickly, soon summer would be here and that meant 
vacation for the young student. He was to spend 
his so-called holiday at home with his father and re- 
turn to Paris to take his degree the following winter. 

“Good-bye, dearest,” said he to Perrinette, who 
had come to the station to see him off. 

Once in the train, he was the prey of conflicting 
emotions, products of the two aspects of his nature. 
Could he expect that Perrinette would not forget him 
during his three months’ absence? No, he was not 
so trusting. She certainly loved him, though; she 


THE GUILTY MAN 


59 


was so unaffected, not a bit coquettish, and had she 
ever for one moment aroused his suspicions? But 
three months’ separation was certainly a long time 1 
He was disturbed by the thought that she might de- 
ceive him, — unhappy about it, too, for she had be- 
come very dear to him — and yet — and yet, his pride 
and his self-love suffered too. Away down deep in 
his nature he was conscious of a secret longing that 
she would completely forget him during the summer 
and never give him another thought. Wasn’t that 
the simplest solution? Again the strict and cowardly 
prejudice of the country-bred asserted itself, and as 
the train sped nearer and nearer the home of his 
youth, all his old-time repression and fear returned. 

“Caen!” said the conductor, and Christian was 
aroused from his introspection. As he alighted from 
the train, he saw at a glance that the place was un- 
changed. He hurried to his home on the Rue des 
Cannes, and as he entered it seemed even more dull 
and dreary than when he had left. 

Monsieur Lescuyer did not leave his library to 
welcome his only son, but he did deign to give him a 
light kiss on the forehead, which gave Christian a 
sensation of gooseflesh all over his body. Here the 


6o 


THE GUILTY MAN 


father sat, surrounded by briefs on his legal re- 
searches along the line of human baseness, and he 
created in his son’s mind the impression of a sailor 
held fast in the clutches of polar icebergs. 

On Christian’s first evening at home, he was the 
guest of honor at a dinner to which his father had 
invited several of his old colleagues, who congratu- 
lated Christian on his work in Paris. One would 
have thought, to look at them, that they had assem- 
bled to pass sentence upon a criminal instead of to 
eat a dinner of turkey with truffles. 

The month of September was rainy and dreary, 
and a suitable atmosphere it was for the return to 
Christian’s old habits. Each day he went to the 
Court to observe methods, and on Sundays accom- 
panied his father to church, where the long noses of 
the two Misses Gentilhomme and Monsieur Nou- 
ziere’s catarrh irritated him beyond description. 
The afternoons were spent with Madame Leger- 
Taburet. Christian took note of the fact that the 
carpets and furniture were more faded than they 
had been the previous year — and that Madame’s 
niece had not improved in appearance. Thus he 
coupled his impressions, — faded furniture and a 


THE GUILTY MAN 


6i 

young girl’s looks! He was not even conscious of 
the blush which suffused her cheeks, and if he had 
been, it would not have occurred to him that his 
coming had caused it. The fact that his father and 
her aunt had planned their marriage did not enter 
his mind. He listened patiently to the same nothings 
which had been worn threadbare, of the present 
gaudy fashions, corrupt politics and poor outlook 
for the harvest. Every topic was presented in its 
negative aspect. 

During these three months of self-abnegation and 
ennui, Christian Lescuyer tried to live in the recol- 
lection of his experiences of the previous winter. 
He recalled the time he spent in Donadieu’s studio 
smoking a cigarette and listening to the optimism 
and good humor of the artist. And he realized a 
growing lonesomeness for Perrinette. 

He decided to write to her, and was quite over- 
come when he received her answer to his letter. 
Her writing and spelling were execrable, such as 
one might expect from an untutored laundress — ^but 
how naive she was in telling him how much she had 
missed him! In sending baisers^^ at the end 

of her letter, she had omitted the “double 1” in 


62 


THE GUILTY MAN 


but that did not lessen the warmth of feel- 
ing in Christian’s hearj:, nor keep him from counting 
the days until he would be with her again. 

At last the final day of his exile (for such it must 
be termed) arrived. He felt no pangs at leaving his 
father, but was impatient to return to Paris. Per- 
rinette met him at the station. How they embraced 
each other! 

“You are very sure,” he asked, “that you have 
not fallen in love with anyone else while I was away 
— you swear it?” 

“I swear,” she answered. And it was true. He 
was so affected that he almost wept for joy. 

The next morning they went to invite Frangois 
Donadieu and Heloise to lunch with them. They 
found the sculptor in his barn-like studio, without a 
fire despite the cold November day. He was mak- 
ing a sketch for a new statue and was altogether out 
of sorts. 

His Homme Au Trophee** had been voted a 
place of honor at the last Salon,, but its success had 
not come up to his expectations. The artist was in 
a very pessimistic mood, although he had just re- 
ceived a commission from the Beaux Arts to decor- 


THE GUILTY MAN 


63 


ate one room of the new Auditor’s Office. It was 
to be an allegorical bas relief on a subject which did 
not appeal to him at all, — ‘‘Dispute.” 

“I accepted it,” he said, “only because I owe two 
quarters’ rent, — and my poor Heloise has given up 
her position to pose for my ‘Danae’ for the next 
Salon. At night she sews until all hours to eke out 
a few sous by making novelties for the Bon Marche. 
What in the world do they expect me to make of so 
dry and uninspiring a subject as ‘Dispute’ ? I suppose 
a nude figure who wears a worried expression. I 
must have his biceps and every part of his anatomy 
help the effect. Oh, what a beastly profession I 
have chosen!” 

Just at this outburst, Heloise came in, in her old 
summer dress, but radiating optimism. Her eyes 
beamed, and her good nature was so apparent that 
the artist felt its contagion and his pessimism van- 
ished as if by magic. 

“Good morning, Mam’selle la Gaiete,” he cried, 
“good morning, Mam’selle Good Hope. You shan’t 
have to buy any provisions to-day, for we have a fine 
invitation to dine in a restaurant where the butter 
pats have the impression of cows on them, if you 


64 


THE GUILTY MAN 


please I And the wine is really old : its mustiness is 
not make-believe and does not escape with a little 
sponge the moment the cork is out of the bottle.’’ ' 

Frangois’ usual happy spirits had returned in full 
force. The party of four had a very enjoyable 
luncheon and at each fresh sally of her petit Dieu^s 
wit, Heloise burst into a loud laugh. Christian was 
making mental comparison of his love affair and that 
of Frangois. He sat quite still, holding Perrinette’s 
hand, under the table. He knew that he was very 
much in love with the quiet, sentimental little girl, 
and he thought his passion of a finer, higher type 
than that of his brusque, gay friends, Frangois and 
Heloise. It annoyed him very much to see Heloise 
throw back her head and hold her sides at what 
seemed to him Donadieu’s foolishness of sticking all 
the toothpicks in his beard and imitating the grim- 
aces of a pagan god. As a fitting climax, Frangois 
kissed Heloise on both cheeks. “That was surely 
bad taste,” thought Christian and again he pressed 
Perrinette’s hand tenderly and lovingly. 

And yet the emotion which the eminently prac- 
tical and reasonable young man interpreted as a big 
love was in reality comparatively commonplace. 


THE GUILTY MAN 


65 


Those who were truly mated, in the highest sense, 
were the two of whose manner of love-making 
Christian so entirely disapproved. Without empty 
protestations, fine phrases and sweet nothings, they 
had given themselves, one to the other, no doubt 
for life. They were helpmeets, encouraging each 
other to bear life’s burdens uncomplainingly. A bit 
ordinary in their way — that might be — ^but their 
hearts were in their love. As for you, Sir Student,, ^ 
torn by conflicting ties of love and ambition, what is, 
to become of your dear little Perrinette when you 
will have submitted your thesis and won your 
degree ? 


CHAPTER V 


THE DESERTION 

The winter months of Christian Lescuyer’s second 
term in Paris passed quickly and uneventfully. He 
studied conscientiously, and his friendship with Per- 
rinette continued. They both looked forward to 
the spring and early summer, when they could make 
the delightful little excursions to the country with 
Francois and Heloise. 

September came and with it the young student’s 
well-earned degree. Lescuyer, Senior, was pleased 
with Christian’s standing in his classes, and with un- 
looked-for generosity sent him a draft for 2,000 
francs as a graduation gift. The father still de- 
manded implicit obedience of the son and wrote to 
him that he expected his immediate return to Caen. 
Christian’s love affair with Perrinette was reaching 
its end; he must heed his father’s commands. He 
felt that his heart would break, but this outcome was 


THE GUILTY MAN 


6i 


inevitable and Perrinette had prepared herself for it. 

“What can one expect?” she said to Christian 
when he broached the subject. “What can one 
expect?” she repeated. “I have had a great deal of 
trouble and heartache in my time, but I suppose 
that’s the way of the world.” 

His only reply to her simple philosophy was, 
“Alas, that is so.” 

He consoled himself with the thought that she 
was satisfied, that no doubt she would find some one 
else to take care of her. There were many others 
similarly conditioned. Why should he exaggerate 
the aspect of matters in his own mind? 

As the time of their separation drew near, he 
could not help realizing how bad she looked, how 
quiet she had become. Even his caresses and tender 
words could not arouse her. Her only answer was 
a weak, sad smile. 

“Ah,” he thought, “she loves me so tremendously 
that she is pining in anticipation of our separation.” 
His self-love was flattered that he could be the cause 
of such emotion, and he assumed a melancholy air, 
of which the dominant note was conceit. • 

But his father’s command must be obeyed, he must 


68 


THE GUILTY MAN 


return to Caen; so he set a day for leaving Paris. 
The last day that Christian and Perrinette were to 
spend together had come and they were busy packing 
his belongings. As they stood before the half-empty 
trunks, she suddenly threw her head on his shoulder, 
overcome, and sobbing uncontrollably. 

“Forgive me, dear, forgive me, I should have 
told you sooner, but I did not dare, and then I was 
not sure, I did not want to believe it, but I am no 
longer in doubt. Christian, I am to become a 
mother.” 

Unfortunately, the workings of the human heart 
are not always uplifting. Only this test was neces- 
sary to convince this young egotist that he did not 
love the poor girl who had been so devoted to him. 
Maternity — what an unexpected misfortune I He 
looked at her dully. Her appearance was repulsive 
to him; now he understood the changed expression 
of her face. Her two years of slavish indulgence of 
his every whim, her self-denial and sweetness were 
to him as though they had never been! There 
was but one thought in his mind : Perrinette was to 
become a mother. Was his future to be ruined by 
acknowledging an illegitimate child? He was ter- 


THE GUILTY MAN 


69 


ror-stricken at the possibility that a day, an hour, 
even a single minute might come when he would 
have to face his relentless father and confess. 

As he listened to Perrinette’s views of the shame 
and unhappiness of what should have meant the 
glory of her womanhood under other conditions, he 
resorted to the usual promptings of a weak charac- 
ter. He pretended sympathy, he made all sorts of 
vague promises, he feigned a hypocritical pity. But 
in reality all the commiseration he was capable of 
was for himself, and he could see only how this miser- 
able complication involved him. Why should he 
trouble himself about the outcome for this poor mis- 
guided child, who in her way was incapable of 
wickedness, who had even studied the Gospel in her 
childhood, but whose ideas of life and morality were 
the product of the environment of her youth? 

It was understood that Perrinette was to spend 
the day of his departure at the shop as usual, but 
would meet him at the station at eight o’clock, where 
they had planned to have their farewell supper. 

Christian Lescuyer wandered about, obsessed 
with one fixed idea of the turn things had taken. He 
argued the pros and cons in his own mind. If he 


70 


THE GUILTY MAN 


were to acknowledge the child as his own, his future 
would be ruined, he could never marry, that was 
certain. The social position of a young aspirant for 
the bench, living in a small provincial town as a 
bachelor and with an illegitimate child would be 
unbearable. He would be pointed out with scorn 
and shunned, his career would be completely de- 
stroyed. Was so great a sacrifice to be demanded 
for a Latin Quarter love affair? “And a love affair 
with whom?” he asked himself. With a young girl, 
very sweet and good-natured, to be sure, but who, 
according to her own confession, had not had a stain- 
less past. Had she not accepted his advances from 
the time of their first meeting? What did he know 
of her conduct, he now thought, when she was not 
with him? He had often asked her how she spent 
her time while he was away, but that was more to 
pay her the compliment of thinking he was jealous 
than because he actually cared. Her answer, “You 
naughty boy,” followed by an affectionate kiss, had 
really no significance. He had allowed her to come 
and go as she pleased. Probably she had not even 
taken the trouble to deceive him. He recalled now 
that she had once gone on an excursion with a friend. 


THE GUILTY MAN 


71 


The thought came with astonishing relief that 
perhaps he was allowing himself to worry about a 
situation which should not be his concern in the least. 
Should he permit his conscientious scruples to spoil 
his career at the outset for an imagined obligation 
which might in reality not be his? Wasn’t such a 
punishment a bit extreme? 

His mind dwelt with intensity on this very plaus- 
ible thought and he continued in the same strain. 
He and Perrinette had reached an understanding 
as to the future, in fact she knew that at any time 
their friendship might-cease. This explanation was 
in every sense acceptable, and in all justice to himself 
he felt that he owed her nothing. Of course, a little 
help for the present, some material comfort. Surely ! 
That was an understood fact, for she would need 
money, the poor girl, and he wasn’t exactly a mon- 
ster. No, not he. He prided himself on his unsel- 
fishness. 

Then he busied his mind thinking of his monetary 
resources. He was so happy that he still had seven 
or eight hundred francs of the money his father had 
sent him. He would slip these into an envelope and 
press them into Perrinette’s hand when they said 


72 


THE GUILTY MAN 


good-bye. That would be a handsome remuner- 
ation, indeed! 

He continued his walk with the conviction that he 
had reached an excellent conclusion, but remorse 
gnawed at his heart again. His conscience re- 
proached him. 

“You are committing a crime,” it cried out to him. 
But self-interest answered promptly: 

“That code of morality is too high, — perfect fool- 
ishness. It is a well-established fact that the woman 
in the case is always called upon to bear the brunt 
of the ‘suffering, it is ordained that way.” 

Still turning the subject over in his mind, Chris- 
tian reached the studio of his friend Frangois, to 
whom he wished to say good-bye before he left. The 
key was not in the lock and the door was not opened 
at once when he knocked. Time had to be allowed 
for Heloise, who was posing for “Danae,” to dis- 
appear before the visitor entered. 

Christian stood rooted to the spot as he gazed for 
the first time upon the rough sketch of Donadieu’s 
new statue. It showed evidence of having been mod- 
eled by a sculptor in love with his art and in love 
with his model. The figure was strong and grace- 


THE GUILTY MAN 


73 


ful, pulsating with love, and expressed in every par- 
ticular the mythological story of Danae, who was 
imprisoned in a brazen temple by her father because 
of a prophecy that her son was destined to be his 
slayer, and with whom Jupiter fell in love, appearing 
before her as a golden shower, in order to escape the 
vigilance of her guards. 

Donadieu was flattered by his friend’s silent ad- 
miration of his work. “Itls sensuous but not sensual, 
isn’t it? I am trying to catch the spirit of Titian’s 
art, and I have found it very interesting to attempt 
to reproduce it in marble, with a few touches of gold. 
I hope it will please the greenhorns at the Beaux 
Arts.” 

“Be quiet, my petit Dieu** interrupted Heloise. 
“It is the best thing you have ever done, your Danae. 
I will make a wager that it will get the first 
prize.” As she spoke, the big blonde seated herself 
at her sewing machine and began to stitch a dressing 
sacque. 

For economy’s sake, Heloise and Frangois were 
living in the same apartment now, exceedingly 
happy in being together constantly. She was a per- 
fect model for the goddess Danae, and her sittings 


74 


THE GUILTY MAN 


did not interfere with her sewing. Of course, she 
did not make very much money, thirty or forty sous 
a day, but what was the difference? Donadieu was 
going to enter his statue for the next Salon, and he 
had less time to work in the bronze factories in con- 
sequence. So her little pin-money kept them from 
having imaginary meals or living entirely on love. 

“So you are leaving to-morrow,” said Frangois to 
Christian. “I cannot become accustomed to the 
idea, my little friend, that next winter you will ap- 
pear in court in your cap and gown. Of course, I 
know that in your family the law is an hereditary 
profession, handed down from father to son, as in 
Egypt. I know full well what is expected of a judge. 
I was in court once. There was a court officer who 
distributed the briefs as one deals cards for a game 
of whist. They meant no more to him than the 
declarations to a customs inspector. ‘Three months 
— six months — in prison,’ were the verdicts, — ac- 
quitted, condemned. Oh, my little friend, I hope 
you will not allow yourself to be tied to the curule 
chair, and that we shall see you again from time 
to time.” 

“I hope so, too,” answered the new doctor of law, 


THE GUILTY MAN 


IS 


who was really sorry in a certain sense to leave 
Paris. 

Heloise sat at her machine, sewing steadily. 
Without raising her eyes from her work, she asked 
suddenly, with a touch of sympathy, almost pity, in 
her voice; 

“And Perrinette, what is to become of her?’* 

The two girls were not well acquainted, in fact 
they met only when the four went out together to 
the suburbs or to an occasional supper. Perinnette 
had never made a confidante of Heloise. 

Her question reminded Christian of his anxiety 
and was very distasteful to him, so he answered off- 
handedly ; 

“We shall separate. I must leave her.” 

“Quite natural,” said Frangois, exchanging a 
meaning look with Heloise. “You see, love with 
you two is not a fixed matter as it is with us. One 
of these days, my dear Christian, I shall have the 
honor of announcing to you the marriage of Mon- 
sieur Frangois Donadieu, sculptor, and Mademoi- 
selle Heloise.” All this with mock gravity. “She 
has not hastened it in the least,” he continued, “my 
dear, devoted comrade, without whose assistance I 


76 


THE GUILTY MAN 


should never have been able to continue my work. 
She is sure that I love her and her only — but I want 
her to have the respect of the tradespeople as well. 
Nevertheless we must wait until we have the money 
to pay for a marriage license and the minister’s fee. 

“Isn’t that so, madame?” he said, turning to 
Heloise. 

“Oh, our marriage will be celebrated without 
pomp. The young couple will not ride off in a coupe, 
with orange blossoms tied to the horses’ ears, nor 
will there be a feast at the Palais Royal. No, in- 
deed, but there will be a quiet little luncheon for the 
friends who act as witnesses. When my Danae is 
ready for the moulder, I shall buy a set of chimney 
ornaments for five hundred francs, if you please, and 
after that the wedding will take place, — about the 
middle of October, no doubt.” 

Christian listened as long as he could to Frangois’ 
plans, outlined with his usual gaiety and exuberance 
of spirit. Then he said good-bye and hurried back 
to his room to lock his trunks. 

The idea that Frangois intended to marry Heloise, 
his model and the first girl who had ever crossed his 
path, seemed to Christian an evidence of very poor 


THE GUILTY MAN 


77 


taste, and yet he secretly envied him. But of course 
Frangois was free to do as he pleased — no one would 
bother to remark the actions of a bohemian without 
family ties. But his own case was so different: he 
was the son of Monsieur Lescuyer, Judge of the 
Court of Caen, the direct descendant of generations 
of austere magistrates, of countless caps and gowns, 
and could not (even if he so desired) set aside his 
family traditions. Like his predecessors, he would 
have to marry some good, simple country girl, re- 
ligiously brought up. 

There was a fitness of things which had to be 
observed. Different strata of the social scale were 
ruled by different points of view. He even thought 
that the attitude of Frangois (to place Heloise in a 
position in v/hich respect was her due) was truly gen- 
erous. But, on second thought, it entailed no sacri- 
fice on the part of Frangois. Even if he were to 
become a great artist, he would always be a man of 
most ordinary manners. His education and that of 
Heloise were on a par, for neither one had any to 
speak of. And in spite of that, who knows? — maybe 
in later years he would blush for her crudeness. 

Anyway, was there any comparison between the 


78 


THE GUILTY MAN 


life of Francois and Heloise and his affair with 
Perrinette? None in the least that he could see. 
They had attracted each other and their caprice had 
lasted longer than is usualp in such cases, but that was 
all. And again he told himself that he owed the 
girl nothing, absolutely nothing, but a little money: 
yes, that he would give her because of her approach- 
ing accouchement, which he would not allow to dis- 
turb him, and for which he did not hold himself 
responsible. Later, he would keep in touch with 
her. 

As to the child, — perhaps it would not live, and 
if it did live he would surely look out for it, and that 
was certainly honorable on his part. 

He had come to detest Perrinette, poor girl, and 
the happy thought that to-night he would eat his 
last meal with her was comforting. The prospect 
of her good-byes, kisses, sobs, and explanations, was 
odious in the extreme. He had promised to meet 
her at eight o’clock. 

Suddenly he remembered that there was an earlier 
train for Caen which left at four o’clock. He still 
had time to catch it. “So much the better,” he 
thought, becoming cruel and brutal in his desire not 


THE GUILTY MAN 


79 


to see the girl again. “I hate scenes.’’ He rang for 
the waiter. 

‘‘Bring me my bill and order a fiacre,” he said, 
“and be quick about it.” 

Then he wrote a sad note to Perrinette, full of an 
unbelievable lie that the sudden illness of his father 
necessitated his leaving at once — she knew he had 
delayed his departure for more than a month to be 
with her. 

Not a word about Perrinette’s condition, but he 
did not forget to say that he would let her know how 
he was getting along, and the concluding words 
fembrasse/’ hastily scrawled on the slip of paper 
in which he had enclosed the banknotes, were a sting- 
ing insult. 

He called a messenger to deliver the note to Per- 
rinette at the shop, without giving a thought to the 
effect it would have on her to receive it when all her 
co-workers were with her. 

One hour later, when Christian Lescuyer was on 
the train, bound for Caen, a sudden chill and fever 
came over him in contemplation of what he had 
done, and yet he was conscious of a bitter joy and 
relief at his paradoxical bravery in cowardice. 


CHAPTER VI 


THE BIRTH OF CHRISTIAN FORGEAT 

The circumstances in which Perrinette now found 
herself were very tragic. A young woman alone in 
the world and forced to earn her own livelihood with 
the expenses of her coming accouchement which had 
to be met in advance. 

Perrinette Forgeat accepted her fate with calm 
resignation, after the first rude awakening and shock 
of Christian’s conduct had lost its sting. She never 
gave a thought to the other men who had played 
their roles in her life-drama, but she realized how 
trusting she had been in believing in his devotion. 
Despite her ignorance, she knew that she could not 
put any faith in his promise to write to her and pro- 
vide for the child, if it lived. She even knew that 
he had eased his own conscience of all responsibility 
by sending her the bank notes to defray her first 
expenses. She made excuses for him in her own 
mind. 


THE GUILTY MAN 


“Everything will come out all right; there was 
nothing else for him to do,” she thought. 

But in reality her life was very sad. Her co- 
workers gloated, whereas they had formerly been 
jealous of her as the best-looking and best-dressed 
girl in the shop. Instead of pitying her, they had 
jokes among themselves at her expense, and in fact 
one heartless creature openly derided her. There 
was one generous woman, however, who was sympa- 
thetic because she had had a similar experience, and 
she gave Perrinette well-meant advice. She told her 
of a small private hospital where she would receive 
good care. 

Perrinette thanked her and took note of the ad- 
dress to make arrangements. Madame Lagasse 
was the accoucheuse, — “first class,” as it said on her 
sign-board, on which she was pictured as a fashion- 
able woman with a chubby child in her arms, and all 
about her dozens of cabbages in each of which a 
baby’s head was visible. But the real Madame 
Lagasse did not resemble her symbolic portrait in the 
least. She looked exactly like a bull-dog, and her 
face wore the same expression of ugliness, with a 
lurking kindness, however. For thirty years 


82 


THE GUILTY MAN 


engaged in the same “profession,” she had 
earned the name of “Mother Lagasse,” by which 
she was known. Several thousand citizens of France, 
of both sexes, had uttered their first cry in her estab- 
lishment — their first expression of the joy of living. 
If it had been necessary to find out their pedigrees, 
most of them would have been branded with the 
stigma of illegitimacy; but they were spared that 
humiliation, for there was no one to inquire. Mother 
Lagasse tried to be as kind as she could to the young 
girl-mothers who were in her charge. When she 
had a few moments’ spare time, she amused them by 
telling their fortunes by cards. It was always the 

%■ 

same old story of a blond “gentleman” (the king of 
hearts) or a dark “young man” (the jack of clubs) 
who still loved the girl devotedly, despite all appear- 
ances to the contrary. Though there might be many 
obstacles, fate would bring the lovers together again 
and they would live happily ever after. 

Six months after Christian had deserted her, Per- 
rinette became the mother of a fine baby boy at^ 
Madame Lagasse’s private hospital. The child’s 
name was entered on the Civil State Register as 
Christian Forgeat, son of Perrinette Forgeat, father 


THE GUILTY MAN 


83 


not known. This fact was duly noted before the 
same two witnesses who always acted in that capa- 
city when the occasion demanded. One was the 
porter from the opposite corner, the other a coal 
heaver, both of whom made all possible haste to 
exchange their gratuities for beer. Christian Les- 
cuyer’s son was surely not beginning life in accord- 
ance with the traditions of his father’s family I 
Perrinette had named her son “Christian” because 
she still entertained fond hopes that his father would 
provide for him sooner or later, and that he would 
be touched by her choice of a name when he knew 
of it. She even wrote to Caen to announce the birth 
of the little fellow, and while she awaited a reply 
hung with feverish interest on every word of proph- 
ecy which the fortune teller told her. The cards 
promised that a handsome “dark young man” (the 
jack of spades) was about to take a long trip (the 
three of diamonds) ; that Perrinette would soon re- 
ceive a letter (ace of diamonds), and that despite 
the ill will of another dark man (the king of spades) , 
Perrinette would be very happy: everything would 
turn out for the best. And still the girl waited in 
vain for an answer to her letter. Incapable of 


84 


THE GUILTY MAN 


hatred and malice, she still thought tenderly of 
Christian! 

She was soon able to leave the hospital and go 
back to her work in the florist’s shop. Now she 
would have to work harder than ever, for she hadn’t 
a sou in the world after paying three months’ nursing 
in advance for her baby. 

Every Sunday, she went to see him. The nurse 
and her husband received her with honeyed polite- 
ness, and invariably presented her with a long bill 
for the baby’s absolute necessities. She paid it will- 
ingly, though it entailed a most rigid economy on 
her part. What matter to her, so long as the baby 
thrived ? 

The time came when her salary was not sufficient 
to pay all her expenses. Without any hesitation, 
she took her few little pieces of jewelry, her prized 
possessions, to the pawnbroker. She economized 
on her own food, almost to the starvation point. 
She resigned herself to buy second-hand shoes and 
wore her old clothes, which were almost in rags. 
She was truly heroic, this little Parisienne, but she 
could not seem to get out of debt. At the end of the 
month she owed ten francs for her own expenses, 


THE GUILTY MAN 


85 


and three times as much to the baby’s nurse, who re- 
minded her of it every Sunday in a very forceful 
manner. 

The easy-going, light-hearted Perrinette of for- 
mer days was carrying a burden which was too 
heavy for her. What was she to do? How make 
both ends meet? She had to bring up her boy. 

One of her friends, to whom she told her trouble, 
advised her to accept the usual solution of such prob- 
lems. Her experience had made her wary: she 
knew just what she could expect. Her decision in- 
volved a question of self-preservation, not of moral- 
ity. She adored her baby, lived only for him now. 
When once a week she had the chance to hold him 
and press him to her mother-heart, she felt repaid 
for all her sacrifice. His face was as serious as that 
of a little old man. 

Palaiseau, the suburb where the baby lived with 
his foster parents, could be reached either by omni- 
bus or by train. Perrinette went with the ’bus be- 
cause it was cheaper. On one particular Sunday, 
towards the end of September, Perrinette was more 
depressed than usual. The nurse had given her a 
long bill for absolute necessities for the little boy. 


86 


THE GUILTY MAN 


who had been ill during the week. She had implored 
a little extra time in which to pay it and had received 
the gruff reply: 

“You know this state of affairs cannot go on for- 
ever.” 

The girl felt that her heart was breaking. The 
future did not look rose-colored to her. 

She trudged along, heavy-hearted, toward the sta- 
tion. When the ’bus came, she saw that there were 
no vacant places inside, so she climbed up on top. A 
man helped her ascend and politely moved up to give 
her a seat next to him. He was about thirty-five 
years old and wore carpenter-unionist clothes, — the 
trousers with velvet bands at the sides. 

Perrinette’s appearance was not now what it had 
been. At one time she was so chic that everyone 
would turn to look at her, but now, in her faded 
clothes and without gloves, she did not attract at- 
tention. Quite unceremoniously, her neighbor began 
to talk to her. She turned to look at him and saw 
that he had red hair, a military moustache, a fearless 
eye, and a deeply lined forehead. In a word, he 
looked like a hard-working, honest fellow. Before 
half an hour had passed, he had told her a great deal 


THE GUILTY MAN 


87 


about himself. He was from Lorraine, had taken 
up engineering, and was now employed by Monsieur 
Baschaud, a wholesale dealer at a salary of seven 
francs a day. His eldest sister lived at Palais- 
eau. She was married to a market gardener and he 
visited them every Sunday, more for the sake of get- 
ting the air than for any other reason. 

He called Perrinette “Mademoiselle,” as he 
looked up at her several times with admiration. 

“You go to Palaiseau very often, too, don’t you, 
mademoiselle? I have seen you on the ’bus several 
times. Do you visit your parents there?” 

“No,” she replied quickly, without stopping to 
think of the effect of her answer, “my little son is 
out there.” 

“I beg your pardon, madame/* he answered. “I 
meant no offense when I called you mademoiselle, 
but you look so young.” 

The threats of the baby’s nurse rang in her ears 
again, and a wave of self-pity stole over her. 

“Alas,” she said, “call me what you will. I have 
a baby, but his father deserted me. — ^There are thou- 
sands of experiences like mine, aren’t there?” 

Some force beyond her control impelled her to tell 


88 


THE GUILTY MAN 


her whole unfortunate story to this strange man. 
He listened attentively, interrupting her once in 
a while with an exclamation of “Poor girl 1” 

He was not very eloquent, and when she had fin- 
ished her recital he made the commonplace com- 
ment: “Yes, life is not always joyful!” 

Perrinette knew that he pitied her but did not 
know how to express it. 

At the next corner she told the conductor to stop, 
and, although the carpenter lived quite some distance 
away, he alighted with her. Suddenly he became 
self-conscious and took off his hat. 

“Do you expect to go to Palaiseau next Sunday?” 
he asked nervously. 

“Certainly. Au revoir, monsieur,” she replied. 

“Au revoir, mademoiselle/^ 

On the following Sunday they met again and con- 
versed like a pair of old friends. As Perrinette sat 
on the top of the ’bus with him in that cool Septem- 
ber twilight, she was completely at peace and almost 
happy. She knew that his voice was softer when 
he spoke to her and that he wished to propose to 
her but he felt that he did not dare. He was not 
bold, like the other men she had known. 


THE GUILTY MAN 


89 


When Prosper Aubry (that was the young car- 
penter’s name) told her with evident embarrassment 
that his wages were good, that he had laid aside 
more than one thousand francs in the Savings Bank, 
that he was tired of living a bachelor’s life, etc., a 
number of unhappy thoughts flooded her mind. 

If only she had been fortunate enough to have 
met a man of this type earlier in her life, to marry 
him and settle down to a happy home life ! she mused. 
Her morality was the price she had paid to satisfy 
her desire to wear stylish hats and own a few pieces 
of jewelry. She realized acutely, for the first time, 
what her life had been. 

“Will you have a glass of beer with me?” he 
asked. They entered a cafe on the Boulevard Mon- 
parnasse, and when they were seated at a small table 
in the corner, Prosper Aubry declared himself. 

“I have never met a girl who attracted me as much 
as you do,” he said. “Since last Sunday you have 
never been out of my thoughts for an instant. You 
were so honest with me, and I appreciate your confi- 
dence. Despite all that you have told me — even the 
child — I would marry you to-night, if I were free. 
But, dear, I want you to know I am not a bachelor. 


90 


THE GUILTY MAN 


I am married, but my wife ran away from me after 
two years of misery. That was five years ago, and 
since that time I have lived like a widower. 

“Now that you understand, will you come to live 
with me, if I promise to take the child too?” he 
asked in all good faith. “He shall be known as my 
own son. I have some money saved, I told you. I 
shall buy furniture for our little home, and you will 
be the housekeeper. 

“And, dear,” he continued, “I give you my word 
of honor that I shall never mention your past to you, 
and I will try to love the baby as though he were 
really mine.” 

Perrinette was so overcome by this kind offer that 
she could not speak. Her silence meant consent and 
gratitude. She felt very tender toward this gruff, 
brusque workman who was so kind to her, and it 
was a long while since anyone had spoken to her 
of love. 


CHAPTER VII 


THE MOTHERLESS CHILD 

Perrinette Forgeat and Prosper Aubry took an 
apartment in one of the suburbs. From their win- 
dow on the fifth floor, there was an extensive outlook 
on roof and chimney as far as the eye could reach. 
The spires of Notre Dame and the dome of the 
Pantheon gave majesty to the view. 

The little home consisted of but two rooms, 
heated by a tiny Delft stove, but what mattered the 
size? Happiness and contentment made it seem a 
palace ! Perrinette, so full of love, adored Prosper 
for his goodness to her. She had not felt it a sacri- 
fice to give up her position in the shop and work for 
him at a much smaller salary. Prosper made a good 
living for himself and her and paid the baby’s board 
at Palaiseau. Personal adornment had lost its at- 
traction for Perrinette : the important consideration 
now was that the home should be carefully looked 
out for and that Prosper should find all his creature 
comforts in readiness every evening on his return. 
The little Parisienne, whose conception of what was 


92 


THE GUILTY MAN 


worth while in life had been so different, was even 
satisfied to do the washing. 

Prosper was in every sense a model, she thought. 
He was never intoxicated, no, not even on Sundays; 
every fortnight he brought home his wages intact. 
Then, too, he was so considerate, never making the 
slightest allusion to her past experiences. Of course 
he would not go with her to see the child, but she 
could not be too exacting since he paid the bill so 
uncomplainingly. 

No doubt he had his faults, like everyone else, but 
he had not shown them to her. Of course, she knew 
that the deep line in his forehad was an unfailing sign 
of a violent temper if he were aroused. But with 
her he was as gentle as a lamb, never raising his 
voice, even caressing her as though he were afraid 
she might break if he handled her roughly. It was 
as though a big dog were playing with a little child. 

Perrinette was very happy indeed. She felt she 
could hold up her head now, and she took on a new 
value in her own esteem. Everyone thought she was 
married: the neighbors and tradespeople called her 
Madame Aubry. She was pleased with this pseudo- 
respectability. 


THE GUILTY MAN 


93 


There was but one thing lacking to make Perrin- 
ette completely happy, and that was to have her 
baby, her little Christian, with her constantly. 

“What makes my Perrinette look so radiant?” 
asked Prosper one day after she had been to 
Palaiseau. 

“Our baby has been weaned. Prosper, and I 
want to bring him here. May I?” she asked. There 
was a flitting look of displeasure on his face, but he 
answered quickly: 

“Yes, let’s have the little scamp.” 

The next evening, when Prosper came home to 
his dinner, Perrinette met him at the door with the 
baby in her arms. Involuntarily the line in his fore- 
head deepened when he saw the child, but he man- 
aged to say, with a sign of enthusiasm, “What a fine 
little fellow he is,” but Perrinette’s mother heart 
felt that he was not sincere. He had promised to 
love the child as if he were his own; that was why 
she had said “our baby.” Was this possible? 

The little mother realized that she must be very 
tactful and keep in abeyance her love for the child 
when Prosper was at home. He too tried to feign 
affection for little Christian, but he was cursed with 


94 


THE GUILTY MAN 


a jealous, petty nature which resented keenly the 
existence of any outside interest which would deprive 
him of Perrinette’s entire devotion. At night, when 
he came home from work, he would make a pre- 
tense of kissing the baby’s forehead, but Perrinette 
could see that his heart did not prompt the love he 
tried to show. He attempted to suppress his annoy- 
ance when the child cried or caused any of the hun- 
dred and one little discomforts which were unavoid- 
able in such small quarters, but his efforts at self- 
repression did not escape Perrinette’s watchful eye. 
Once when she was off her guard and in response 
to the prompting of her mother-love, she pressed 
the child to her breast and kissed him passionately, 
she saw an expression of hatred come over the man’s 
face. 

“He does not love me as he used to,” she thought 
as she rocked Christian’s cradle. However, she 
hoped for the best. 

But as time went on, this state of affairs grew 
worse, instead of better. It was very evident that 
the presence of the child was obnoxious in the ex- 
treme to his “step-father.” He was a source of an- 
noyance, a hindrance. 


THE GUILTY MAN 


95 


Through Perrinette’s loving care, the baby 
thrived, and when his features began to form he did 
not resemble his mother at all, but was the image 
of the father who had deserted her before the child’s 
birth. She realized acutely that this likeness would 
estrange her the more from Prosper. 

At the dinner table one night, when she was lost 
in reveries recalled by the little baby face, Aubry 
turned to her abruptly and said : — 

“Well, it’s very evident he does not look like 
you.” 

“Poor baby,” she answered blushingly, “the fault 
is not his.” 

With unfailing mother instinct, she realized that 
the sight of the child had become a torture to the 
man who had been so good to her. Each day he was 
less tender to her on that account. The erstwhile 
peace of the home was embittered, her pleasure in 
providing for Aubry and looking after his comforts 
was completely destroyed. 

Poor Perrinette was called upon to decide another 
difficult problem which was beyond her powers of 
adjustment. She deliberated, — what was she to do? 
Suddenly, as she thought, an inspiration came to her. 


96 


THE GUILTY MAN 


Why not write to Christian Lescuyer, tell him the 
whole truth and ask him to provide for the child 
as he had promised? The thought of losing the 
child was a painful one, for she adored him, but she 
would put aside her own feelings for the interest of 
Prosper and the child. Perrinette decided to tell 
Aubry of her decision. 

“I have a plan to propose,” she said. As she 
proceeded, the line on his forehead became a deep 
groove and his outburst knew no bounds : 

“Are you crazy?” he cried. “What do you expect 
from that beastly peasant who deserted you as soon 
as you told him of your condition? Furthermore, 
I absolutely forbid you — do you hear me? — abso- 
lutely forbid your writing to him. If by chance he 
has repented, so much the worse for him: he has 
lost track of you and his son. I would be happy if 
I knew this minute that he was looking for you and 
could not find you, — that he was suffering! That 
would be my revenge, for I loathe that man, whom 
I have never seen and whose name I do not even 
know. I am consumed with hatred for him, when 
I think that he is a younger man than I, has had a 
much better education than I, that you were his mis- 


THE GUILTY MAN 


97 


tress before I knew you and that he is the father of 
your child. He lied when he made love to you, but 
I am sure he was better able to appeal to you than I, 
who am sincere. Why did you remind me of all 
this? Up to now, I have been able to keep my 
promise and not mention your past to you, but when 
you compel me, I’ll say all I think, and you will 
listen. 

“I hate that child, who takes some of your love 
and attention from me. I thought I would become 
accustomed to having him around and even grow 
to love him, but I cannot. I know it isn’t his fault, 
but neither is it mine. I shall never care for him, 
and that settles it. I cannot keep you from loving 
him, from being a devoted mother, but don’t ever 
mention his father’s name to me again or I’ll put the 
child out of my house.” 

Perrinette saw the hopelessness of the situation 
and her heart bled again, but this wound was the 
deepest of all she had suffered, for it affected the 
best and highest of her nature, her motherhood. 
Aubry’s antipathy towards the child grew stronger 
until the time came when he abused the poor little 
innocent on the slightest provocation. 


98 


THE GUILTY MAN 


“Christian, just wait and you’ll see what I’ll do,” 
he would say to the. child a hundred times a day, and 
the look in his eye and his gruff voice would have 
terrified an older person than the unfortunate little 
three-year-old. Under the influence of such treat- 
ment the child was not very docile. His face had a 
wilful expression which was intensified by the thick 
black eyebrows so characteristic of the Lescuyer 
family, and he looked older than his years. 

His invariable answer was, “Mais, Papa,” and 
the word “father” only served to infuriate Aubry. 
Every day there was a scene, with or without cause. 
It would be : 

“How badly that child eats.” 

“How dirty he looks.” 

“What! Nine o’clock and he’s not in bed yet? 
Put him to bed at once,” and the crease in Prosper’s 
forehead would emphasize his displeasure. He 
made no further effort now to suppress it. 

At the table one evening, the boy gave him an 
answer which was not quite as respectful as he de- 
manded. A hard slap across the face was Prosper’s 
only reply. 

“Oh, Prosper,” cried Perrinette, distressed. 


THE GUILTY MAN 


99 


“What’s the matter now?” he said gruffly, “isn’t 
one even allowed to teach children manners nowa- 
days? If my father had not given me a few blows, 
a fine cadet I would have been.” Turning to the boy, 
he continued: “And if you don’t stop that crying, 
I’ll find a way to make you.” 

Next day it began all over again, and the little 
boy, so unjustly corrected for trifles, became sullen, 
and a look of resentment came into his eyes when- 
ever he looked at the man who, he believed was his 
father. 

Perrinette tried to be the peacemaker, but all her 
efforts were fruitless. With one look. Prosper ter- 
rified and silenced her. Poor thing, she was so un- 
happy, secretly spoiling the child to mitigate the 
unfair treatment of him and openly agreeing for pol- 
icy with Prosper. What an unfortunate environment 
for the plastic mind of a young child! Perrinette 
loved her baby and longed to defend him, but she 
was grateful to the big, gruff man. She made ex- 
cuses in her own mind for his implacable hatred of 
another man’s child. 

Poverty added to the hopeless condition. The 
siege of Paris, in the Franco-Prussian war, reduced 


100 


THE GUILTY MAN 


the daily income to thirty sous. Perrinette had long 
since given up all personal vanity. She had lost her 
looks and thought nothing now of going in the street 
in her dressing sacque, whereas she had once been so 
dainty. Meanwhile Prosper had enlisted, and the 
inactive army life was his ruination. He drank with 
his companions during the day, and when he came 
home at night his face was heated with wine and his 
entire appearance suggested violence. 

During all this miserable period, which lasted un- 
til tlie end of May, the little home in which peace 
had once reigned had become a veritable hell, but 
when the war was at an end, the workman found 
employment again and returned to his regular rou- 
tine. A little of the old-time order and peace was 
restored, Perrinette and Prosper adjusted themselves 
to the improvement, but his dislike of Christian grew 
more intense. He never addressed a word to the 
boy now, except to find fault or to give him an order, 
and he slapped him on the slightest provocation. 
Once in a while the look of entreaty in Perrinette’s 
eyes would deter him. *And what was the effect on 
the little fellow? From being constantly bullied and 
harshly dealt with, he lived in constant fear and a 


THE GUILTY MAN 


lOI 


furtive look came into his eyes. Whenever his so- 
called father spoke to him, his body was all of a 
tremble and he unconsciously raised his hand as if 
to ward off a blow. 

Poor, poor baby, — ^was he the retribution of his 
parents’ sin? To him, existence was a curse, not a 
blessing. He was destined to lose the only one in 
the world who had a spark of love for him. Fate 
had indeed dealt cruelly with him. One evening he 
came home from school with a rash covering his 
entire body, complained of headache, and during the 
night became delirious. He had caught scarlet fever, 
which was epidemic in the neighborhood. 

His mother took care of him, caught the disease, 
and in three days was dead. Had she a soul? O 
God, but Thou wilt forgive. Lord of justice. Thou 
wilt understand her mistakes and make allowances 
for her life. Receive her into the Kingdom of 
Heaven, O Merciful Father! 

Christian lived. Why was he spared? He had 
just turned six when his mother died. Prosper Au- 
bry loathed him now with an unspeakable hatred. 
Why should he be burdened with this illegitimate 
child because he had loved its mother, for whose 


102 


THE GUILTY MAN 


death the boy was responsible? And this brat was 
to live with him, called him papa and no doubt won- 
dered why he was not loved. That was a little too 
much to be tolerated. He was nothing but a 
stranger. Prosper had every right to put him out 
of the house, throw him into the street. 

“I’d do it in a minute,” he thought, “but for his 
mother’s memory.” It would have been kinder to 
the child if he had done so. 

Conscience would whisper to his hard heart, once 
in a while : “But he’s only an innocent baby.” He 
did not understand the vague scruples which promp- 
ted him to keep the boy, to fe'ed and to clothe him. 
The neighbors pitied the poor widower who seemed 
so heartbroken. The women often stopped him on 
the stairs to speak of his dear little son. And he 
hated him! 

There was no restraining influence now. No 
pleading eyes stayed the heavy hand from its blows 
and cuffs. From repeated beatings and kicks, Chris- 
tian became round-shouldered, and the expression 
of his eyes was that of a whipped dog. 

He got supper ready every night. “You rascal, 
that’s the least I can have of you, that you wait on 


THE GUILTY MAN 


103 


me,” Prosper told him. His father’s homecoming, 
always late, was a moment of torture for the boy. 
Prosper was generally in bad humor now from the 
effects of two or three absinthes, for he had become 
addicted to drink since Perrinette’s death. 

His abuse would begin with the first spoonful of 
soup. 

“What do you call this stuff? Am I an animal 
that you give me this dog’s food?” 

“Mais, Papa, I expected you an hour ago.” 

“What is that? I suppose Pll have to obey mon- 
sieur’s orders after this.” 

The terrified child kept silent. 

“Will you answer me, you devil, instead of look- 
ing at me like a sneak?” 

And then the blows began to rain. 

The boy was in despair. Can one imagine coup- 
ling the two words, — infancy and despair? He be- 
came silent, almost savage. In the district school 
which he attended, the instructor to whom pedagogy 
and child psychology were unknown subjects, took 
a dislike to the quiet, sullen boy and derided him 
before his classmates. They in turn made of him a 
pariah, a laughing-stock. 


104 


THE GUILTY MAN 


School became hateful to him, and one day as he 
stood on the door step so keen was his disgust that 
he decided not to go in. He wandered about the 
streets all day long. He was severely punished by 
the principal for his truancy and beaten by Prosper. 
Blows could not hurt him any more, he had become 
so callous. He repeated the offense. The freedom 
of the hours in the street. In the crowd, away from 
the cruel instructor and heartless comrades and from 
his violent father, was worth the inevitable punish- 
ment which he knew must follow. 


CHAPTER VIII 


THE TWO STREET ARABS 

It is a well established fact that every human being, 
in looking back calmly upon his childhood, can point 
with unerring certainty to incidents, trivial in them- 
selves, which have nevertheless left lasting impres- 
sions and greatly influenced his character and destiny. 
A warm July night marked such an experience in the 
development of young Christian “Aubry.” The 
day had been very hot and again he had played tru- 
ant. After wandering about the streets all day he 
found himself toward evening, at the dock on 
the canal St. Martin. The sun was about to set, and 
the boats in the little harbor were bathed, as it were, 
in gold. So it seemed to the tired little boy, at any 
rate. For the first time in his youthful experience, 
wanderlust took hold of Christian and he felt that 
desire to go far away which quickens the imagina- 
tion of all children. He stood in silent admiration. 


io6 


THE GUILTY MAN 


overwhelmed by the sight of a large boat, which 
had come from Flanders. The bridge was deserted. 
Only a dog was keeping watch. The door of the 
Captain’s cabin was ajar, disclosing an inviting 
room which seemed luxurious to the boy. 

‘‘How happy one could be on such a boat!” 
thought Christian, in his childish revery. In imagi- 
nation he saw himself as a cabin-boy, loved by the 
big white dog barking at him from the bridge. He 
breathed a deep sigh as he reflected on the joy of 
being far away from all those who made him suffer, 
— his father, the teacher, his school-fellows. 

As if in answer to his thoughts, some one said, in 
a shrill voice, “Say! pretty fine boat, ain’t it?” 

Christian turned quickly and saw a boy about ten 
years of age, in rags. The most remarkable part of 
his outfit was an old coat which must have belonged 
to a large man. It reached the boy’s knees and the 
sleeves were pushed half way back, to allow him 
the use of his hands. Despite his ragged appear- 
ance, his unkempt hair and sickly complexion, the 
little gamin’s bright eyes and retrousse nose gave evi- 
dence of the good-nature and light-heartedness of 
which he was capable. Something about him appealed 


THE GUILTY MAN 


107 


to Christian at once, even as Frangois Donadieu had 
appealed to the other Christian. 

“Do you like to see the boats, too?” asked the 
boy. “What’s your name? Mine is Natole.” 

Although this introduction was not strictly in ac- 
cordance with the rules of British etiquette, Christian 
had no hesitancy about accepting it. 

“My name is Christian,” he answered. 

“Christian? What kind of a name do you call 
that? I never heard a name like that before. It’s 
in your family, I suppose. Sure ! I can see that. 
You have decent shoes, too.” 

Having exhibited his powers of observation, Na- 
tole turned to whistling the latest popular song, 
“Josephine, charming Josephine,” which was quite 
the rage at all the cafes. Then he added: 

“Let’s go to see the paddle. I think we can see it 
work now. It’s great sport to watch.” 

And Christian eagerly followed his new-found 
companion. He was fascinated by this boy who 
treated him as his equal. Other boys at school had 
always made a butt of him. After they had stood 
some little time watching the play of water, they 
were boon comrades. They exchanged confidences. 


io8 


THE GUILTY MAN 


Natole knew that Christian had ‘“cut” school, that 
he was in no hurry to go home, for fear of the pun- 
ishment his father would mete out to him. 

“Say,” said Natole, the youthful philosopher. 
“With you, it’s your father who’s the devil; with me 
it’s a stepmother. Gee, she’s a terror. I get a box 
on the ears and a cowhiding for my meals. But what 
do I care? — it’s eight days now since I’ve put my 
nose inside the door, and you bet that’s not the first 
time I’ve stayed away either.” 

“You stay away!” cried Christian, astonished and 
regarding this hero with increased admiration. 
“How do you get along?” 

“Cinch!” said Natole, with a careless shrug of his 
shoulders. “If you look for things, you’ll find them. 
There’s lots of ways, — holding horses, opening car- 
riage doors, going on errands. In the mornings, I 
help unload vegetables. The only hard part is to 
find a corner to sleep in every night. But it’s not 
bad now. I know where some new houses are, only 
you have to look out for the cowhide, if you sleep too 
long, that’s all. It’s a snap.” 

A new and acceptable point of view was dawning 
on Christian. 


THE GUILTY MAN 


109 


“Say, but what happens when they find you and 
take you back to your stepmother?” 

“I get pounded,” said the other reminiscently. 
“It’s hell in our house, I tell you, nothing but beat- 
ings. My old man drinks all day long, and his devil 
of a wife hates me, and for nothing at all gets after 
me with a poker. I won’t be beaten all the time, so 
I go off on my own hook. Darn it, there’s no place 
like the street.” 

As Christian listened to all this independence, a 
church bell near by tolled six o’clock. The boy 
turned pale and trembled. His father would come 
home, find no supper ready, and fly into a passion. 
Christian could almost feel the heavy fist descending 
on his little body. 

An irresistible temptation took hold of him “not 
to go back to the old stable,” as Natole said; to get 
along as best he could, to be free. But fear asserted 
itself again, he did not dare launch forth, alone. He 
was thoroughly frightened at the prospect. A ray 
of hope dawned on him. If only this fearless Na- 
tole, experienced and aware of the pitfalls, this hero, 
whom he worshipped, should take him as his com- 
panion. Acting on this inspiration, he asked: 


1 10 


THE GUILTY MAN 


“Say, where do you sleep to-night?” 

“In a coaling boat, near the Tournelle bridge. 
There’s no one there at night, and there are always 
nets to cover with. It’s a darn nuisance to have to 
get up so early, — those coal heavers come before 
sunrise and then we have to beat it, but that’s not so 
bad, that brings us to the vegetable wagons on time. 
The boat won’t be unloaded for three days, so I have 
my bed, as sure as though I had a key to a bunk in 
a hotel. And the best part of it all is that I have 
the price of a meal for to-night,” added Natole, 
proudly exhibiting four sous in the palm of his dirty 
hand. 

“Bread and cheese will be the feed, — you can 
have half if you want. I bet a hat you are tired of 
your father’s knocks and beatings and you’re dying 
to beat it.” 

Christian looked at Natole, fascinated, feeling 
that he read his soul. 

“Say, do you mean it? You’ll be my pal?” he 
said. 

“Sure, I will,” answered Natole. 

The partnership was formed and the two little 
vagabonds joined forces. 


THE GUILTY MAN 


III 


When Prosper Aubry returned from work, that 
night, he found his “son” missing. 

“Ah, ungrateful hound!” he growled, as he pre- 
pared his own supper. “Don’t worry. I’ll make you 
suffer for this.” 

An hour passed and another. Still Christian did 
not come in. 

“So much the worse for him. I’ll make him sleep 
out to-night,” said Auhry, throwing himself on the 
couch for a nap. 

Next morning, he became uneasy when the boy 
did not return, despite his lack of feeling for him. 
He went down to the janitor to ask him if he had 
seen Christian. It did not take long for the entire 
neighborhood to know of his disappearance. 

“What an ungrateful, sneaking, lazy dog he is,” 
cried Prosper. “And now his latest trick is to stay 
out all night.” 

“Suppose he has had an accident,” ventured a 
timid young woman with a little baby in her arms. 

“No such thing, — I guess I know him,” answered 
Aubry gruffly. “He’s a vagabond, he plays hookey 
every time he gets a chance.” 

“But, Monsieur Aubry,” said the young mother. 


II2 


THE GUILTY MAN 


“the poor child I His eyes are often red and swollen 
from crying. I know it’s trying to bring up chil- 
dren, — they are often so obstinate — but maybe you 
are a bit hard on him.” 

Aubry became purple with rage. 

“Why don’t you tell me he’s a little martyr,” he 
shrieked, “and that he’s run away because I ill-treated 
him. The whole world is unjust I Now I’ll tell you 
something you don’t know,” he continued in his pas- 
sion. “His mother and I were not married and that 
brat whom you pity so is the child of some one I 
don’t even know, and out of the kindness of my 
heart I have taken care of him, — and this is my 
reward.” 

As Prosper Aubry went out to report the boy’s dis- 
appearance to the police, all the neighbors agreed in 
sympathizing with this unfortunate man whose gen- 
erous spirit had met with such ingratitude. 

For a whole week no trace could be found of the 
boy. It was as though the earth had opened and 
swallowed him up. What could have become of 
him? 

Meanwhile, Christian was enjoying his liberty 
more than he had ever dreamed was possible. There 


THE GUILTY MAN 


113 

Is something of the savage in a child, an Instinct that 
craves freedom from restraint. He found it quite 
natural to shift for himself and to sleep out in the 
open.. The summer was beautiful, the nights warm, 
and the two boys slept peacefully on the boat. They 
always managed to scrape together a couple of sous 
for a lunch of waffles or a supper of fruit, bought 
from a street vender. Their scheme was to prowl 
around the restaurants, theatres and public balls, for 
here they were reasonably certain of getting a small 
tip from the high livers and pleasure-seekers for 
opening their carriage doors. 

Natole, who knew his Paris as a gamekeeper his 
forest, led the way to the corners where a couple of 
sous could be picked up. 

Each day brought with It some new experience to 
the repressed child, some privilege which made his 
liberty seem a veritable heaven. The menagerie 
was a new-found joy. Natole’s ability to open a 
closed fence was second to none. He was certainly 
a wonderful guide ! Now that fear had been con- 
quered, Christian found everything delightful and 
amusing. 

“Cheese It, the cop!” Natole would whisper, 


THE GUILTY MAN 


114 

whenever a guardian of the peace came in sight. To 
evade this terror became a more exciting game than 
prisoner’s base. 

Of course, being a vagabond had some disadvan- 
tages. A heavy shower came up, and the two little 
gamins had to seek protection under the arch of a 
bridge where they remained in one position for over 
three hours. Sometimes funds were low or gave 
out altogether. Once their supper consisted of a 
broken loaf of bread which Natole had picked out 
of a garbage can. What’s the odds? One can live 
on crumbs, like mice. How appropriate that on 
the escutcheon of Paris there is a symbolic ship and 
how full it must be of just this sort of mice, — little 
homeless vagabonds. 

After five days, everything seemed to go wrong. 
Times were hard. There was incessant rain, which 
continued throughout the night, and sleeping quar- 
ters were uncertain. The coaling vessel had been 
unloaded, and the two gamins watched their isle of 
safety drift down the river toward Bourgogne. 

Even the policemen became more severe and 
looked at them very critically. It was pretty hard 
sleeping outside in an unfinished house, which was 


THE GUILTY MAN 


115 

like a cave of the winds. The two little vagabonds 
went about in their soaked clothes. They looked 
pitiful, with their long, pinched faces and encircled 
eyes. They deserved the charity of the diners at 
the restaurants from whom they begged a couple of 
sous, but they received only the scoldings of the 
waiters, who chased them away with their napkins 
as if they were so many flies. They hungered for a 
word of kindness, poor little chaps ! 

“What’s the matter with you?” said Natole. “Do 
you want to quit? You’ve had enough? I ain’t 
holding you, — go back to your ‘papa.’ Maybe you 
like it better with him.” 

And Christian followed him, terror-stricken by 
the mere possibility of returning to his old home. A 
combination of self-preservation and a generous sort 
of sense of honor, of keeping his word, made him 
remain. He loved his protector, his boon com- 
panion Natole, who was so brave and ingenious in 
finding the wherewithal to get along, and he did not 
want to leave him. 

Although his youthful intelligence had been sharp- 
ened by his experience, something troubled him 
vaguely. Begging was repulsive to him, and con- 


ii6 


THE GUILTY MAN 


science asserted itself once when Natole took a hand- 
ful of figs for their supper. 

“That ain’t right,” he said, “that’s stealing.” 

“Stealing? Why do you eat them then?” asked 
Natole. “Stealing? It’s the grocer who steals, 
when he holds down the scales, or cuts off a piece of 
cheese after it’s weighed. Say, none of that, or I’ll 
get mad. I get something for you to eat, and you 
call me a thief. I won’t have it. You fool, do you 
want to die of hunger?” 

Christian’s shaky scruples were squelched by these 
arguments: his friend’s influence over him was too 
strong to attempt contradiction. 

Their schooling was becoming more difficult every 
day. The heavy rains continued. Natole, bare- 
headed, and chilled through, walked with a less 
important air, and Christian, whose shoes were 
water-soaked, dragged one foot after the other. 
Seven days and nights had passed since they had 
started out to face the world together. 

Still their courage was heroic! They made a pact 
to sleep out of doors, to beg from a peasant, who 
tolerated their demands, and to steal two sous’ worth 
of dried fruits each day from an honorable mer- 


THE GUILTY MAN 


117 


chant whose conscience did not trouble him when he 
gave short weight. There are all sorts of fine shades 
and distinctions in the conception of honesty, of 
which proper account is not taken. The explorer 
who, under the pretext of reforming the negroes in 
Africa, effects an exchange of his beautiful hand- 
carved ivories for a handful of brightly colored but- 
tons, is not a dishonest man but an intrepid pioneer 
of civilization. Even if he is murdered as a penalty 
of his trickery and leaves to his country a heritage 
of a foreign expedition which costs a mint of money 
and thousands of soldiers’ lives to avenge his death, 
still he is a hero and not a vagabond, and all his 
fellow-countrymen honor his achievements. The 
politician who gets rich at the expense of the poor 
is only carrying out an approved political scheme 
which conforms to the accepted code. The public 
servant whose debts overwhelmed him before his 
attainment of his life’s ambition, but who, after 
two years’ office, during which he has loudly pro- 
claimed his whole-souled devotion to the interests 
of the people, has a deposit of 2,000,000 francs in 
the Bank of England, — how dare anyone call him a 
thief? No, indeed, he is serving his party to the 


ii8 


THE GUILTY MAN 


best of his ability and answers these undeserved crit- 
icisms of his methods with silent disdain. 

But the little culprits, less than ten years of age, 
who sleep in unfinished buildings and beg for their 
few sous to keep body and soul alive, whose treat- 
ment in their so-called homes forces them to a crim- 
inal life from infancy — they are indeed culprits, 
thieves ! They constitute a real danger to the public 
welfare! From them, we need the protection of 
our police system 1 It shows great foresight on the 
part of our legislators that they provide a special 
fund in the budget for the care and punishment of 
these dangerous young rascals! 


CHAPTER IX 


THE CHILD CULPRIT 

Thus is the code of society regulated! The two 
young “criminals” in whom we are interested were 
roused at four o’clock in the morning by two officers, 
who represented Law and Order in all their dignity. 
One was in civilian’s clothes and his appearance was 
such as to frighten any peaceful citizen who might 
unexpectedly come face to face with him; the other 
was a city policeman. 

Natole and Christian jumped up, terror-stricken. 
One was seized roughly by the shoulder, the other 
violently pulled by the right arm. 

“I told you we would find those two devils here,” 
said one officer to the other, priding himself on his 
keen intuition. Turning to the prisoners, he cried: 

**Oust^ la vermine! Get into that patrol wagon 
as quick as you can.” 

In a few minutes, they reached the station house, 
and were thrown into a filthy cell. Strange to say. 


120 


THE GUILTY MAN 


they were alone. This was Christian’s first expe- 
rience and the boy shuddered as he listened to the 
dismal noises all about him. He burst into tears, 
but his companion was too hardened to show any 
emotion. He walked up and down with his arms 
folded, stamping his feet in rage at the thought of 
his lost liberty. 

Christian controlled himself sufficiently to ask in 
a shaky voice: — “Tell me, Natole, what will they 
do to us?” 

“Oh! I forgot, you don’t know the ropes,” an- 
swered his experienced comrade. “The jail, the 
court, the trial, is what happens.” These unknown 
words increased the boy’s terror. 

“What’s all that?” he whined. 

“Go on, you’ll find out soon enough. It’s no fun, 
the jail, but you don’t die there.” 

“And after that?” 

“Oh ! they let our parents know, and ask if they’ll 
take us back. My dear father always does. Gee, 
won’t I get kicked and beat!” 

Christian shuddered. He felt sure, too, that his 
punishment would be merciless. His independent 
spirit vanished, and he gave way to tears. 


THE GUILTY MAN 


I2I 


At seven o’clock precisely, the ruffian who looked 
like a brigand came to the cell, and for the second 
time said to the boys, ^*Oust, la vermine/* as he 
pushed them before him into the secretary’s office. 
Was it possible that this creature once had a soul, 
capable of love and sympathy? 

“Hello there. Monsieur Hector,” said the police 
spy, with an obsequious smile, which is the most 
disgusting expression a human face could wear. 
“You overslept this morning.” 

“Oh, damn it. I go into the cafes every night 
with the firm vow that I won’t touch a drop. But 
my friends come in and each one treats to a round, 
and before I know it it’s after midnight. It’s polite- 
ness that sends a man to the devil, I tell you.” After 
delivering which wise speech, he turned his attention 
to the two boys before him. 

“Of course, that’s what all you young good-for- 
nothings say. ‘Badly treated at home, kicked and 
beaten.’ ” 

“Put them in the patrol wagon and send them to 
the court,” was the verdict. 

As the little vagabonds reached the court house 
another patrol wagon was being emptied of its mot- 


122 


THE GUILTY MAN 


ley crowd of prisoners, picked up in the lower quar- 
ters of Paris. Another followed and yet another, It 
seemed a parade of human beings who had sunk 
to the lowest depths of degradation, — ^beggars — 
thieves, drunkards — prostitutes. One after another 
they filed out, living witnesses of human misery. An 
old man in rags, the companion of a young girl who 
had tried to increase her youthful attraction by soiled 
ruffles and a flower-laden hat — old women with 
painted cheeks — pale men, with blood under their 
nails, — ^young men who looked like women in dis- 
guise. Almost all these miserable creatures stag- 
gered out of the police van, some weakened by hun- 
ger, others by drink and over-indulgence. The 
police had arrested them between the hours of one 
and five in the morning, at the cabarets, the public 
dance-halls, or in the parks, where some had thrown 
themselves on the benches with the hope of dying 
there, others to sleep off the effects of their intoxi- 
cation. Paupers or blackguards, objects of pity, or 
wretches, — ^most of them were hideous creatures 
whose eyes stared vacantly and whose facial expres- 
sions were those of untamed animals. There was 
one in that depressing crowd whose beauty and gen- 


THE GUILTY MAN 


123 


tleness were enhanced by the sordid surroundings, — 
a young girl, in tatters, who guided the steps of an 
old drunkard. She had the face of an angel, and 
seemed like a beautiful flower blossoming in the 
mire. As the so-called arrivals came into the prison 
they were seized by the warden and roughly pushed 
along into a large dismal antechamber. They were 
divided into groups according to their offenses, the 
drunkards with the drunkards, the thieves with the 
other thieves, the young girls in another division by 
themselves. The chief, who was deferentially called 
“Monsieur I’lnspecteur,” was a very important look- 
ing man who examined one group after another, — 
the spoils, as it were, of a night’s debauchery in 
Paris. The confusion and noise of the crowd were 
deafening. Despite the constant commands of 
“Silence I Be quiet there !” the shuffling and tramp- 
ing, the shrill, coarse whispers and the hideous 
shrieks did not cease. The women made a frightful 
uproar, laughing shamelessly among themselves. 
One old hag was most disgustingly drunk and kept 
repeating over and over again the refrain of an 
obscene song. In the midst of all this nauseating 
sensuality, stood a slim ethereal-looking woman who 


124 


THE GUILTY MAN 


had renounced all the pleasures of the flesh to gain 
an understanding of the spirit. An inhabitant of a 
different world she seemed, the Mother Superior of 
the Sisters of Saint Joseph, who had taken her place 
among the young “women of the streets,” to whom 
she hoped to show a light. In another corner were 
five or six gamins, dry-eyed, and devouring with 
interest this spectacle of horror and depravity. 

New comers were arriving constantly, and a fresh 
outburst of jeers and shrieks greeted each one. The 
crowd had become infuriated and order was impos- 
sible. The worst disturbers, some of them maniacal 
in their rage, were, after a difficult struggle, tied 
hand and foot and hurled into padded cells. The 
new recruits were assigned to their several groups; 
the women, scantily clad and bareheaded; the cab- 
bies, coats torn in the street fights in which they had 
been arrested; ghastly looking ruffians who wore 
the cowardly, skulking expression of criminals caught 
in the act; and some few bohemians trying to create 
a favorable impression by adjusting their battered 
opera hats and buttoning their seedy frock coats. 

After a time, the inspector succeeded in restoring 
a semblance of order in the sorting of this rabble. 


THE GUILTY MAN 


125 


Christian and Natole, who had been shoved into a 
corner, with about a dozen more young vagabonds, 
were now pushed into a cell, where their breakfast 
was given them, — a bowl of bread and drippings, 
not fit for a dog. 

Two hours later they appeared in the children’s 
court. The institution is in itself very good and the 
procedure simple. Each morning all the offenders 
who have been arrested in the streets of Paris are 
brought before a special judge assigned to the hear- 
ing of such cases only. Those who have reached 
their fourteenth year and are therefore held respon- 
sible for their acts are sent to a higher court. The 
parents of the younger children are summoned and 
admonished to be gentle and kind, for in nine cases 
out of ten the little runaway has been neglected and 
ill-treated, if not entirely abandoned. Then the child 
is given back to his family, unless they refuse to take 
him. If such be the case, or if the child have no 
parents, he is sent to a Truant School, where he 
must remain until he is of age. 

The judge fills his office in as kindly and fatherly 
a way as possible. The appointment is always given 
to a man of integrity and breadth of mind, one who 


126 


THE GUILTY MAN 


fully understands social conditions and child nature, 
and whose ambition it is to do all in his power to 
fulfill his duty to the best of his ability and not 
merely to use it as a stepping-stone to a higher posi- 
tion. This good man does his very best, under the 
circumstances. But what does his best amount to? 
The children are either sent back to their miserable 
environment, where they see only bad example and 
cruelty, or are placed in a farming colony (in other 
words, a penitentiary) , where they become depraved. 
What a violation of the principle that the punish- 
ment should be in proportion to the offense! All 
this misery for an offense which is comparatively 
trivial, even in the eyes of the law. 

Grand philanthropies have been endowed in re- 
cent years to meet this very condition by men whose 
happiness consists in the amelioration of the woes 
of others. The whole world admires and blesses these 
benefactors of childhood who reclaim the misguided 
youth, take a keen interest in his betterment, and 
place him, if possible, in real homes among honest 
people who help and encourage his moral uplift. 
But in 1868, charity of this sort was practically un- 
known, unfortunately for Christian and Natole. 


THE GUILTY MAN 


127 


The law must he enforced no matter how hard 
and unjust it may be. 

And if the boy is over fourteen, what is his fate? 
He is condemned as though he were a man and 
known later as a released convict, stigmatized for 
life. For those under fourteen, the consequences are 
evpn more severe. The formidable criminal be- 
comes a galley slave, as it were, until he reaches his 
majority. 

The public sanctions these conditions and admits 
their necessity, for without them society would fall to 
pieces like a house of cards. That may be, but I 
ask to be excused from admiring such a conception 
of justice, for I am beginning to believe that the only 
“Progress” which exists is the word itself on the 
sign-boards of cafes. 

The judge who tried Christian and Natole was a 
man of nondescript personality whom a casual ob- 
server would consider very inefficient and uninterest- 
ing, but the man was kind at heart and intelligent; 
and pity for the poor little unfortunates before him 
shone in his thoughtful eyes. The clerk who kept 
the records sat near him, his attention centred upon 
manicuring his nails. 


128 


THE GUILTY MAN 


Christian was brought in by a municipal officer. 
The boy was in rags, trembling from head to foot, 
and trying to suppress his tears. The judge saw at 
a glance, though, that it was not the usual type of 
street Arab, bred in vice, with whom he had to deal. 
Just a moment before, Natole had been restored to 
his father who, though once a respectable cabinet- 
maker, had become a hopeless drunkard. He had 
remarried after the death of Natole’s mother, and 
his present wife was a shrew who detested and 
abused the child of her husband’s former marriage. 
The judge knew that Christian had been influenced 
by his companion and that this was his first experi- 
ence as a vagrant. He reassured the boy, won his 
confidence, and listened compassionately to the sad 
story, which he knew was not a lie. Then he turned 
to his summoning officer. 

“Has the father of this boy been notified?” de- 
manded the Judge. 

“Yes, sir.” 

“Has he come?” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“Show him in.” 

At the mere mention of his father’s name, the 


THE GUILTY MAN 


129 


recollection of all the blows and kicks he had re- 
ceived came back with such vividness that the boy- 
cowered and slunk into a corner, and although the 
old Judge was accustomed to such scenes, he was 
moved to pity for the poor little lad. 

Prosper Aubry, who had been found at his work, 
came into the court wearing an expression which 
substantiated Christian’s story. His eyes were cruel 
and the line in his forehead was deeper than ever. 

‘‘Be seated,” said the Judge. “Here is your son,, 
who ran away from you several days ago. I know 
you have been greatly worried about him and that 
you notified the authorities at once of his disappear- 
ance. I have made inquiries about you and the re- 
ports have been favorable. But this child tells me 
that you treat him very cruelly. I ask you, is that 
true?” 

The carpenter gave Christian a venomous look. 

“Will Your Honor have the child taken out of 
the room for a few minutes?” he answered quietly. 
“I desire to tell you something of great importance.” 

“Granted. What is it?” asked the Judge. 

“Please read this birth certificate,” said Pros- 
per. “ ‘ Christian Forgeat, son of Perrinette For- 


130 


THE GUILTY MAN 


geat, father not known.’ This little brat is nothing 
to me : his mother was my mistress, that is all. She 
is dead, and I kept him just for decency. Do you 
blame me now for giving him a beating, when he 
deserved it?” 

“An orphan — unloved,” murmured the Judge, 
who knew all phases of human suffering. 

“If you believe so, I won’t deny it,” said Prosper 
in his surly way. “But one thing is certain: that the 
very sight of him reminds me of his mother’s former 
life; I was a fool to keep him after she died. The 
little loafer! it disgusts me to see him, and you can 
do whatever you please with him, only I never care 
to hear of him again. That is my right, isn’t it?” 

The most humble citizen inspired by the spirit of 
charity would have expostulated with Prosper Aubry 
and told him how wrong he was, but the old man to 
whom he told his story could answer only in the 
name of Justice. 

“It is your legal right,” he said, in a melancholy 
voice, “it is your inalienable right; but think for a 
moment that he is the son of a woman whom you 
loved, that you are the only being in the world who 
can look after him, that you have been very severe 


THE GUILTY MAN 


131 

with him and that his action is excusable. Be gen- 
erous, keep him near you. No matter how hard 
your training may be, it will be better for him than 
that of the reformatory. The only refuge to which 
I could send him will have a baneful influence. He 
will go in as an innocent child, he will come out a 
depraved and hardened man. You are morally re- 
sponsible for the future of that little boy. You are 
a good man. Will you doom that poor child to de- 
struction, depriving him of all chance to become a 
respectable citizen?” 

Prosper Aubry was unmoved by this appeal. 

“Yes or no, I ask you; have I the right?” he de- 
manded. 

And as the Judge was silent and slowly shook his 
head affirmatively. Prosper went out, without an- 
other word. 

“Make out the papers,” he said to the clerk, in a 
trembling voice, for despite all he had seen and 
heard his capacity for sympathy and his under- 
standing had not become blunted. 

And that same evening, Christian Forgeat, the 
illegitimate orphan, was sent to the Colonie du 
PlateaUy in the Marne et Oise district. 


CHAPTER X 


THE REFORMATORY 

VOS rungs ! — 

This military order was issued in a superior way 
by a boy of fifteen, whose changing voice indicated 
his approaching manhood. He felt his importance 
as foreman of the brush-making industry, in which 
some of his younger brother convicts were engaged. 
Work was temporarily abandoned, and the boys were 
getting ready for the daily visit of the director of the 
^^Colonie du Plateau!' The faces of the little in- 
mates were unmistakably marked with the stamp of 
the prison life they led — the furrowed brow, a worn 
expression and sallow complexion indicated clearly 
their environment. During this temporary so-called 
rest, they stood before their work-benches, like sol- 
diers, their hands nervously clutching the seam of 
their cotton overalls. 

The training of the little prisoners was not only 
in tilling the soil and living in the open air as the 



THIS MILITAKY ORDER WAS ISSUED IN A SUPERIOR WAY, 

Page 132 . 


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THE GUILTY MAN 


I3J 

name “farming colony” would imply, but included a 
wide range of duties. According to the intention of 
the founders of the colony outdoor life was to 
be the means of saving the boys who were sent 
there; in fact, all the students of economics and the 
child problem in its various phases agreed upon this 
point. Men who had studied the question and had 
investigated all the jails of Europe and the two 
Americas were of one mind in maintaining that this 
work in the fields was the only means of accomplish- 
ing the desired result. A long report on this subject 
had been published, substantiating this point of 
view, with convincing quotations from Theocritus, 
Virgil and the Abbe Jacques Delille, whose opinions 
still carry great weight. It was an indisputable 
truth that there was one and only one method of re- 
claiming the lost souls of the little vagabonds, and 
that was by hoeing potatoes and weeding out gar- t 
dens, in a word, by coming into daily close contact 
with Nature. 

This very excellent theory was not put into prac- 
tice, however, for the directors bought several hun- 
dred acres of land on a high plateau which was ex- 
posed to destructive winds, and hence not at all suit- 


134 


THE GUILTY MAN 


able for the farming project. Those in charge de- 
cided that the high altitude and clear air would have 
quite as beneficial an effect, and prided themselves 
on their purchase. 

A number of pale, sickly children from the sub- 
urbs came each day to work with spade and pick- 
axe to regain their lost health, but the result was 
disastrous. The ‘‘altitude and clear air” had a most 
pitiful effect on their underfed, thinly clad little 
bodies, and more than a dozen died of tuberculosis as 
a consequence of the exposure. 

Needless to say, the directors did not admit their 
mistake, but what important body ever does? They 
were still convinced that it was a simple matter to 
effect a complete moral metamorphosis amid such 
ideal surroundings. The scheme was rigorously ad- 
hered to, but of course several modifications were 
allowed to suit the needs of the various tempera- 
ments of the boys. The stronger, or rather the least 
anaemic, of the little prisoners worked in the fields, 
and as a consequence of the severe winds shivered 
from head to foot. For those who could not stand 
this intense treatment, indoor occupation was pro- 
vided. A blacksmith’s shop, a joining-plane, and 


THE GUILTY MAN 


135 


cobbler’s benches were introduced to accomplish 
reformation. 

The idea was good. The young miscreant was to 
be restrained during his youth, but he would go out 
into the world at his coming of age with a trade, 
and thus not be a drag upon society. If he wished 
to work and live as an honest citizen, a fair chance 
was given him. 

Unfortunately an idea, if it exist only in the ab- 
stract, does not accomplish very much. This triple 
expense was too high a price to pay even for moral 
regeneration, so the plans were changed again. 
Brushmaking was the only industry taught, as there 
was a ready market for its output. 

The director in charge had devoted all his ener- 
gies and surplus cash to pandering to those in politi- 
cal favor with the hope of a due reward. Of course 
this position was a great disappointment, but never- 
theless he decided to make it yield as much as possi- 
ble, hence the change of policy in his management. 
His conscience was the convenient warped kind, 
which interpreted all actions only as they benefited 
or injured him — the usual selfish egotistical political 
standpoint. What concern was it of his that the 


THE GUILTY MAN 


136 

children were enduring malnutrition, so long as his 
pockets were being filled in consequence? 

The State suddenly realized that it was being 
robbed, and an investigation was ordered. Several 
commissioners were sent to make the necessary re- 
port — but the director had been warned in time, and 
was on his guard. He showed the visitors an ac- 
count book, which tallied to the sou, a kitchen in 
perfect order, where they tasted the meal for the 
day, which was excellent. He satisfied them on every 
point as to his perfect management. What was 
the result? They returned to Paris, firm in the con- 
viction that they must quell all doubts as to the direc- 
tor’s honesty of purpose, and assure the powers that 
be of the noble work which was being accomplished. 
They conveyed the impression of simple rustic life 
with all its charms, and convinced the Chamber of 
Deputies that the institution was a credit to its 
founders, and a splendid example of French 
philanthropy. 

But the director felt uneasy after this investiga- 
tion and insisted that his political backers effect his 
transfer to a post in Indo-China. There he died, a 
victim of yellow fever. 


THE GUILTY MAN 


137 


Still the colony did not flourish. The children 
died like flies, the crops were miserable and the out- 
put of the workshops, poor. A most remarkable 
interest was again evinced by the Ministry and a 
second investigation ordered. 

‘‘All this mismanagement was due to lack of 
proper direction. A hand of iron is needed,” was 
the sage comment of one member. 

A man of this calibre must be found for the pur- 
pose of restoring order and prosperity in the de- 
cadent colony. Captain Caillou was the very man 
for the place, according to one senator, who did not 
understand human nature sufficiently to realize that 
the name of the man in question — caillou — was syn- 
onymous with the kind of heart he had — as hard as 
a stone. He had spent twenty-five years in Africa 
where he had enforced the most rigid discipline. 
He had never shed a drop of his blood on the battle 
field, but he was a past master in meting out punish- 
ment. For the slightest offense, he would order the 
poor wretch to be thrown into a pit, or bound hand 
and foot under the rays of the broiling African sun, 
which was hot enough to split a roasted chicken. 
This man certainly had the desired “hand of iron,” 


138 


THE GUILTY MAN 


which was to direct the destinies of the young vaga- 
bonds, whose only salvation lay in kindness and 
gentleness. 

His predecessor, a weak political hanger-on, was 
an angel in comparison; as long as he was not per- 
sonally annoyed nothing troubled him. But Captain 
Caillou was terrible because he was a man of duty, 
whose position had been given him on account of his 
ability, and he wanted to prove his worth to the ad- 
ministration. It was entirely a matter of conscience 
with him to send a child to the torture chamber for 
the least infraction of the rules, an act of integrity 
to place him in a dungeon or straight] acket. 

This brute, who was a sort of honest man 
according to his lights, but very badly balanced in 
his conception of right and wrong, had thirty men 
to help him discharge his duties. His attitude toward 
them was as impulse directed, either very severe or 
extremely lenient. On one occasion he dismissed 
one of them for stealing a potato, but when another 
of them half killed a child, he closed his eyes to this 
offense because of his profound respect for the en- 
forcement of authority. 

Of course, the boys who were sent to the colony 


THE GUILTY MAN 


139 


were not easily led — but that was why they were 
there. Victims of the mighty law. of heredity, or of 
unfortunately degrading home influence, orboth, they 
were for the most part vicious and rebellious. They 
needed a firm hand, but deep in their warped and 
tainted little souls existed a demand for justice. 
Hardened as they were to ill treatment, they ac- 
cepted the severe punishments, but authority to them 
meant tyranny. The director’s assistants knew that 
their positions depended upon their cruelty in en- 
forcing discipline, and as a consequence the existence 
of these unfortunate children, which had been miser- 
able, became unbearable. 

Let us be fair! From what class of people are 
the men chosen who are to have charge of a coun- 
try’s criminal classes? From among the lowest and 
least intelligent, without doubt. Those too dull to 
receive any other appointment become jailors — 
some are hangmen. But how can a higher type of 
man be found for this delicate task? 

A man of superior intelligence and fine feeling 
might not understand the struggles and tendencies 
of a perverted child and with all his eager desire to 
do the right, might not know how to approach a 


140 


THE GUILTY MAN 


child whose moral sense was completely undeveloped. 
What a spirit of justice, what kindness and under- 
standing are essential if an educator would make 
himself heard, obeyed and loved, by the children 
whom he hopes to reform ! He must be a saint, an 
angel, patient, tactful and firm, to gain the confi- 
dence of his charges — a man with a sublime con- 
ception of charity — a Vincent de Paul! And in- 
stead these miserable defectives are placed in the 
hands of convict keepers. 

VOS rangs — fixeT^ Monsieur le Capitaine 
Caillou entered Room No. 6 for the daily exam- 
ination. 

The dozen boys, whose regeneration was being 
effected by the making of brushes and curry combs 
by the gross (a miserable trade, by the way) had 
taken their military position. They stood like 
statues, not a muscle of their wan faces moving; 
their eyes were tense, not an eyelash winking. 

The captain’s love of order must have been satis- 
fied. He walked about, looking at one boy after 
the other, and piercing each one in turn with a de- 
vouring glance; he was not more severe than usual. 


THE GUILTY MAN 


141 

this was his accustomed manner. This furious look 
was a feature of his system of education. 

“Christian Forgeat — Louis Rafle, come forward 
in order,” commanded the Captain in a voice which 
had been coarsened by twenty-five years of absinthe 
before meals and whiskey after. The two boys 
stepped out of the file and stood before the director, 
in fear and trembling. 

Six years of his life had gone by since Christian 
Forgeat was sent to the colony. Now fourteen 
years old, he had passed his primary grades and 
was considered a good pupil in the brushmaking 
trade to which he had been assigned because he was 
too weak to work in the fields. Despite the unmis- 
takable stamp of the penitentiary life, this child 
of love was not homely. His features were refined, 
his teeth beautiful. His eyes were soft and black, 
and were animated by an expression of manly 
strength and purpose, instead of the usual look 
of deceit and cunning, so apparent in his companions. 
His thick, dark eyebrows marked him the aristocrat 
— the Lescuyer eyebrows which characterized his 
father and his grandfather who did not exist for 


142 


THE GUILTY MAN 


him. Of fine physique and tall for his age, he would 
have been very good looking if his face had not 
shown the pallor of the underfed. And one other 
defect spoiled his appearance — he was slightly lame. 

Three years before, a keeper had broken Chris- 
tian’s leg by kicking him brutally. This offense 
was pardoned, but a few months later this beast was 
found attacking another child, and in order to avoid 
a scandal which would have been inevitable, the 
affair was hushed up and the man dismissed. And 
Christian Forgeat was maimed for life I 

Louis Rafle, the other boy whom the director had 
called, was a large coarse-looking lad. His mis- 
shapen head and enormous hands indicated clearly 
his type. Nature had made him the more loathsome 
by giving him only one eye and a neck covered with 
scrofula. Poor unfortunate — why was he so pun- 
ished? 

“Ah — there you are, my boys,” said the director. 

The laryngitis of the old alcoholic director, due 
to his over indulgence in liquor, was another cause 
of his chronic bad temper. 

“What is this I hear from the chief warden ” he 
continued in his gruff voice; “some more fights — it 





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THE GUILTY MAN 


143 


seems you wanted to bite off Christian’s nose,” he 
growled at Louis Rafle. 

And indeed, such had been the case. Louis Rafle 
despised Christian Forgeat. He loathed him with 
a maniacal hatred because he recognized that the 
other boy was more intelligent and prepossessing 
than he, that he knew how to conduct himself and 
had the hope of being free some day — while he, his 
idiotic brain told him, would always remain in the 
penitentiary, a prisoner. Louis Rafle detested 
Christian. The night before he had injured him 
again. The two boys had been in a death grapple, 
when the guard separated them. 

“You do not expect me to ask you why you fell 
upon each other?” said the director. “You would 
only tell me a pack of lies, if I did. I do not allow 
such things in my colony, and even though Christian 
Forgeat has a good record, you will both have the 
same punishment — to spend a day in the punishment 
chamber. That will bring you to your senses; and if 
this ever happens again you will be put in the 
dungeon.” 

While the director continued his inspection the 
keeper in charge took hold of the two boys roughly 


144 


THE GUILTY MAN 


and led them to their torture chamber. They made 
no protest whatsoever, for punishment was no nov- 
elty to either of them. They seemed utterly indif- 
ferent, accustomed as they were to injustice. Louis 
Rafle’s thick heavy face showed the triumph he felt, 
and he whispered to his companion : 

“You see, mister hypocrite, it does not pay to be a 
pante; you get it the same as the mariollesT 

There were two factions among the little pris- 
oners, and an undying enmity existed between them. 
The pante in ordinary slang was the “goody 
goody,” the mariolle was the cunning trickster 
who knew how to get the best of things. In a word, 
at the colony the pante and the mariolle were 
the good and the bad. Le pante (stigmatized 
with that name, by the others, as a sign of ridicule), 
submitted quietly to the harsh discipline, tried to do 
his best at all times, was studious and obedient. Gen- 
erally the pante was a hypocrite, who crouched 
before the keepers, but secretly stirred up dissension 
among the boys. There were a few lads who had 
enough sense to accept their long monotonous sen- 
tence, to be deaf to the wicked plans and ideas of 
their fellows, and to close their eyes to the bad ex- 


THE GUILTY MAN 


145 


amples. Christian Forgeat was of the latter kind, 
of whom there were so few. 

Although many excellent reforms have been intro- 
duced, the actual system of education of the way- 
ward defective child is still barbarous. Alas! one 
cannot couple those words without a heartache — 
perverted childhood. A few men have retained a 
conception of morality, despite the negative influence 
of their childhood. I know one, who is an officer in 
the army at present, and there is another, who is 
struggling to make an honest living, and one cannot 
have too much respect for a man of that kind. 

But the mariolles were the unmanageable, incor- 
rigible lads, who might be likened to unsound fruit 
which had been spoiled in a heat; they entered the 
prison with vicious tendencies and left it completely 
depraved. That is the story of almost all these un- 
fortunate children — and the lack of individual train- 
ing and understanding is their undoing. 

The penitentiaries for children are in reality the 
nurseries of robbers and murderers. The boys are 
shut off from the world for long dreary years with 
the hope that they will return some day to become 


146 


THE GUILTY MAN 


good citizens. When they reach their majority 
they are released — in a state of dissatisfaction and 
rebellion against their fate, their hearts full of 
wickedness and ready for crime to avenge their own 
lot. 

There is now a new mode of treatment to meet 
the demands of this miserable pathetic problem. It 
is called the solitary system. Do you grasp the full 
meaning of that plan? Children, little children, are 
condemned to constant solitude, to absolute silence. 
At the Petite Roquette, each child has his own cell. 
By looking through a peep hole in the wall of their 
cell they may be seen imprisoned as though they 
were violently insane. It is indeed a sight to make 
one’s hair stand on end. Each one is seated on a 
bench, before a shelf, fastened to the wall, dabbling 
at some sort of work. Even on Sundays at mass 
they are locked in a kind of cell, in a wooden turret, 
from which each can see only the officiating clergy- 
man, but not catch even a glimpse of one another. 
The Chapel of the Petite Roquette is one of the 
curiosities of Paris. It is an ingenious instrument 
of torture. There is no doubt that the inventor was 


THE GUILTY MAN 


147 


a philanthropist who received a splendid salary dur- 
ing his lifetime for this indi, cation of love for his 
fellow men. 

This cellular system of education for the regen- 
eration of perverted or abandoned children had 
such pitiful disastrous results that it was given up, 
and the colony idea reinstkted. The agricultural 
training was resorted to again. Of course the prob- 
lem is a difficult one to solve. The ideal solution is 
to place the child in a poor family, where he will 
grow up in an atmosphere of honesty, and will ac- 
quire a taste for work because he sees it about him. 
But even in the homes of the poor the father will 
knit his brows when he hears a plan proposed that 
he should bring up a little black sheep with his own 
children. There are rascals who take them, only 
to work them to death, and then their condition is 
worse than prison life and no better than their own 
so-called homes. 

One must view the case from all points of view 
and try to be just. The sympathy and interest of 
those who make this problem their special study are 
undeniable; they draw up splendid plans, full of wis- 
dom and even pity, but, though in the abstract these 


148 


THE GUILTY MAN 


are excellent, generally when put into practice, they 
are abominable. 

The prisons to which these victims of fate and 
heredity are sent — and where they are subjected to 
every kind of physical torture and moral disaster — 
are generally entrusted to the care of guardians who 
have no more charity and gentleness in their hearts 
than there is nourishment in the miserable food- 
stuffs which are prepared under their direction. 

And to come back to the case in point, to Christian 
Forgeat and Louis Rafle, the same punishment (and 
a very severe one at that) was administered to both, 
although the one was guilty of self defense, the other 
of wilful attack without reason. They were con- 
signed to the “chamber of horrors” — a large under- 
ground room, around which the boys were compelled 
to march in Indian file, under the strict surveillance 
of a keeper. The march continued all day, except 
for two half-hour rests for meals, which were prob- 
ably another indication of philanthropy. 

The chamber of discipline is a form of punish- 
ment such as is used to chastise the most rebellious 
and vicious convicts, for it is one which they fear 
more than the dungeon. And in the reformatory 


THE GUILTY MAN 


149 


children have been known to commit a more serious 
offense in order to be placed in the black cell, rather 
than to be sent to this room. The former is terrible 
enough. The child is all alone in the dark, fed on 
bread and water, and sleeps on the cold stone. But 
at least he can sit down, with his back against the 
wall, and rest and even fall asleep. 

But think of walking up and down without cessa- 
tion I — an exhausting unnerving march, which causes 
a dull throbbing pain in the brain. And such treat- 
ment is supposed to effect regeneration! — the only 
result can be a greater degeneration. If such tor- 
ture be the consequence of making faces behind a 
keeper’s back, there is no choice left to the culprit 
but to break the keeper’s face the next time he feels 
so inclined, in order to bring about a greater punish- 
ment which will at least include a rest. This situa- 
tion would have its humorous aspect were it not so 
pathetic. 


CHAPTER XI 


THE DISCIPLINE CHAMBER 

Cloc — cloc — cloc — doc! The wooden shoes of 
the culprits resounded heavily and rhythmically on 
the flagging of the discipline chamber. One behind 
the other they marched in lockstep, thirty miserable 
youngsters, and continued without a halt. Christian, 
who brought up the rear, fell behind from time to 
time, on account of his lameness. 

“Keep up there, no lagging, you loiterer,” growled 
the keeper from his comfortable chair in the middle 
of the room. 

“Attention,” he added, “don’t skip the corners.” 

Were they to be blamed, for attempting to cheat 
a bit, to shorten their torture by rounding the cor- 
ners? But the keeper detected the trick. 

These hideous children, marched, marched, 
marched — paying a heavy penalty for their slight 
misdemeanors. And indeed they were hideous I It 


THE GUILTY MAN 


151 

seems a harsh word to use, but their eyes alone would 
justify the statement, dull and heavy as they were, 
never lighting up for a moment and comparable only 
to unpolished window glass. Every face in turn 
reminded one of some animal, a ram’s nose, or a 
martin’s jaw, or a snout like a pig gave that impres- 
sion. 

Have pity on them, you splendid young fellows 
and happy men who read these lines; sympathize 
with the ugliness and stupidity of these poor unfor- 
tunates. Who is to be blamed for their condition? 
Not they — surely. 

Cloc — cloc I — they shuffle on and are physically and 
mentally exhausted. Their feet are weakened, their 
legs are as heavy as lead and the strain has distended 
the muscles of their necks. They cannot fight against 
the inevitable, and still they continue to shamble. 

In the enervation of the monotonous march, 
Christian was thinking of his long hard captivity. 
His mind was filled with recollections from the time 
he first saw the colony, (when he had not yet reached 
his ninth year) until the present. And suddenly an 
instinctive repugnance asserted itself, and he found 
himself loathing the long plaster buildings, and the 


152 


THE GUILTY MAN 


little chapel which was a wretched hovel, surmounted 
by a cross; hating with fierce intensity the stretch of 
barren plain, spreading out in unbroken evenness on 
every side, and sparsely dotted here and there with 
an occasional stunted elm tree. It looked like his 
own crude landscape drawings. 

How well he remembered his first day, when he 
had been examined as though he were a beast and 
a suit of sacking clothes had been given him to put 
on, marked with the number by which he was hence- 
forth to be known. How vividly he recalled the first 
time he had been called “Christian Forgeat’* — 
whereat he was astonished. 

“But my name is Aubry,” he protested; “my father 
is Prosper Aubry the carpenter.” The keeper looked 
at the commitment paper again and shrugged his 
shoulders. 

“Your name is Forgeat,” he said. “Aubry is the 
name of the man your mother lived with, and who 
does not want to be bothered with you any longer. 
Do you understand? And Fm pretty sure, he has 
good reasons for it, too.” 

Of course the child did not understand, but ac- 
cepted the change of name quietly. It seemed a joy- 


THE GUILTY MAN 


153 


ful piece of news, that this man, who had beaten and 
kicked him, was not his father. 

But alas ! the boy came to know very soon what an 
illegitimate child was. ^^Uhomme qui vivait avec 
maman^^ was the most commonplace expression 
heard irr'the Colony, and it did not take very long 
for him to become familiar with the lowest aspect 
of the unwritten law. Into his young impressionable 
mind were poured all kinds of vulgarity and con- 
tamination, with that instinctive hatred for purity 
which impels young street Arabs to write bad words 
and draw obscene pictures on the public walls. The 
boy knew in full detail the shameful secrets and 
illicit passions of the lowest order. And he had not 
yet reached his tenth year! 

One cannot help thinking in contrast of the pure 
young child, the happy offspring of honest parents 
who love and guard him, and watch over his troubled 
sleep. Often the father will touch the perspiring lit- 
tle hands, and look anxiously at the mother to see 
if she is alarmed about the condition. How wisely 
these guardians try to answer the curious questions 
which natural curiosity prompts the child to ask; 
how dear to their hearts is the little one’s innocence ! 


154 


THE GUILTY MAN 


They observe the tender unfoldment of the child’s 
mind as though it were a budding flower. Among 
the little vagabonds there are some, perchance, who 
are as innocent as the child of happier environment, 
whose purity is accidently preserved. But their 
fate is the same as that of the other Arabs — the lily 
is in time besmirched. 

Cloc, cloc, cloc,^ cloc — Christian’s retrospection 
continued. How he recalled his experience when, a 
few years after his commitment, he had lain in a 
clean white bed at the infirmary, his broken leg en- 
cased in plaster and splints. Through the brutality 
of a fiend, from whose ferocious grip he had tried to 
wrest himself, he had been beaten, bruised and 
maimed for life ! He saw himself, resting quietly, 
in clean clothes, cared for by a sweet young nurse, 
who was so kind to him. An overwhelming grati- 
tude and peace stole over the lad. 

And then came the thought of his one and only 
friend, the one human being, who had ever seemed 
to take a personal interest in him, who had come 
frequently to visit him at the hospital, who sat at 
the foot of the cot, looked at him lovingly and spoke 
to him affectionately. This man was Simon Benoit, 


THE GUILTY MAN 


155 


the teacher of the School at the Colony, a consump- 
tive, whose voice had almost disappeared. He could 
scarcely make himself heard in the classroom, and 
had been sent there only because his salary was con- 
sequently small, and he was “good enough for those 
children,” thought the director. 

This young man had ideals, and his cherished hope 
was to reform at least one of the boys in his charge. 
He studied them carefully, as they sat before him 
on their hard black benches, and a pity for their un- 
fortunate lot welled up in his heart. It seemed to 
him that Christian was the most intelligent and the 
least warped of any. There was a light in his eyes, 
which gave evidence of a soul, and so the dying man 
chose him as the one whom he would try to save. 

As one tries to stir up a dim fire, so Simon Benoit 
little by little put life into the little spark of con- 
science which existed in Christian Forgeat, until he 
saw his labor of love bear fruit. It filled him with 
joy to tend the tiny seeds of kindness and honesty 
which he had planted. 

Oh ! little Christian could never forget him. The 
dear face and weak feeble body of his one friend 
were hallowed and alone in a niche of his memory. 


156 


THE GUILTY MAN 


There he would always remain, and again he saw 
vividly the thin finger of the feverish hand, which 
pointed out to him the word of consolation and hope 
on an otherwise blackened page. 

Cloc, cloc, cloc, cloc— the thoughts kept crowding 
thick and fast into the boy’s mind, memories of the 
long endless years of misery and suffering. Each 
season in turn had left its bitter stamp. The winter 
was severe, the spring bleak, the summer oppres- 
sively hot, and the fall muddy, the time of dying 
leaves. And ever before him was the same dismal 
hovel, which was the only home he knew. He 
thought of the number of hours he had spent on 
work which he hated, every fifteen or thirty minutes 
of which were assigned, with never a deviation ex- 
cept for punishment. 

Since the death of his idolized Benoit, no one had 
given him a friendly word, for he was despised by 
the mariolles, who suspected him of being a traitor, 
and of playing the hypocrite. Christian, for his 
part, had absolutely no confidence in any of his as- 
sociates, being disgusted with their filthy talk and in- 
decency. 

“How long my childhood is!” he thought, “will 


THE GUILTY MAN 


^57 


it never end? And even when I am through here, 
what will become of me?” 

At eighteen, the boys began their military service, 
and they eagerly looked forward to the experience. 

For just a moment this seemed a ray of hope to 
Christian, and then with crushing power came the 
realization of his lameness, which would prevent 
his enlisting. Even that resource was denied him. 
He did not excel at manual work, that he knew, and 
at best he would be a very inferior workman. He 
was terror stricken when he thought of what would 
become of him after his release. Although he had 
suffered tortures there, he shuddered to think of 
himself applying for work, with only an ex-convict’s 
certificate for recommendation. Of life and his fel- 
lows he knew nothing, but as a result of unfortunate 
training he felt instinctively that existence in the 
world must be difficult and trying, and even the idea 
of his freedom became a torture now. 

Not a friend in the world to turn to! Of one 
thing he was certain and that was that he would 
avoid any of the Colony associates whom he might 
chance to meet, when once he was free. He felt 
sure they would travel the road of evil, for their 


158 


THE GUILTY MAN 


vicious habits and thoughts even at the present time 
justified his conclusion. 

“Say, Jules, when your time is up here, what are 
you going to do?” he had asked one of the quietest 
lads one day. 

“Me? I’m going to be thief, like my father,” 
answered Jules, with a wicked hard laugh. 

Yes, he would escape them surely — but where to 
find work was the problem, at whose door could he 
knock? When he had confided that fear to Simon 
Benoit, the poor man had grown sad and said: 

“I shall not be here to help you then, my dear 
child, you will be all alone. It will require great 
courage and perseverance on your part, but you will 
always try to be an honest boy, I am sure ; you will 
see that that is the only way to be happy.” 

Yes, yes, his young heart cried out, he would 
try, he would try, that was his promise to his dying 
friend, he would do everything to the best of his 
ability and eat only the bread which he had earned. 

Surely there was good material in the make up of 
a boy who could reach such a conclusion under the 
existing circumstances. As he marched on, he urged 
himself to summon up all his courage for his future 


THE GUILTY MAN 


159 


struggles. His head was lowered, his shoulders 
stooped and his feet excoriated and bleeding. 

Cloc, cloc, cloc, cloc! Suddenly the door was 
opened. The head keeper stood outside. 

“Halt! — all the punishments are at an end. Go 
to your rooms and put on your new shoes — then 
form a line of march and be quick about it, do you 
hear?” was the command. 

“What had happened?” the boys wondered. 
Something unusual surely. Ah! an inspector was 
about to come unexpectedly. And so it proved. 

His arrival was particularly auspicious just at this 
time, if only he had been a man who could read con- 
ditions. To-day the Colony was especially horrible. 
Even the dull November sky, with its heavy clouds 
was in keeping with the surroundings. The children 
were thoroughly filthy and their little bodies shiv- 
ered under their thin blouses. An awful odor of 
suet came up through the tinder-box kitchen door. 
Conditions were truly revolting. 

But we need not worry, the director did not lose 
his head; he was well aware of the assumed finer 
sensibilities of some of the examiners, and he 
guarded against impressions which might offend 


i6o 


THE GUILTY MAN 


them. There was only a half hour in which to get 
the place into proper order. Of course the time of 
the Inspector General was mapped out to the minute, 
so the examination would not last long, he knew. 

The important personage appeared on the scene 
and the director introduced him with great ceremony 
and all due respect to his assistants; then he monop- 
olized his attention and endeavored to create a 
favorable impression. 

“And first of all, Monsieur, you may show me the 
account books,” said the Inspector. 

That part of the inspection did not worry the 
director, his books being kept up to date and bal- 
anced to the centime. 

In a second, the big Superintendent was seated 
before the desk in a sea of memoranda and papers. 
He knew very little of accounts, but assumed a very 
important air, put on his glasses and looked them 
over cursorily. Then in a deep voice he said: 

“Excellent, very good indeed,” and that was over. 

Captain Caillou understood how to handle this 
man and modestly began a eulogy of his own work. 
At the same time this gave the children a chance 
to change their clothes. 


THE GUILTY MAN 


i6i 

“Never has the Colony been in so flourishing a 
condition. The death rate has greatly diminished. 
(No wonder, all the weaker children having passed 
away, it was the case of the survival of the fittest). 
The harvest of turnips had been splendid, and the 
regeneration of the boys had been remarkable, the 
pursuit of farming developing the character and 
bringing out the latent beautiful traits in the children, 
etc., ad lib. 

“Very fine, very fine,” repeated the Inspector Gen- 
eral. 

The Captain continued to amuse the unwelcome 
visitor by trifling episodes. He knew that the entire 
stay would last but half an hour. 

“O, I must not forget to give you two important 
documents before you leave, monsieur Flnspecteur.” 

The first was a letter from a farmer who thanked 
the director for sending him so capable a farm hand 
as Hippolyte Mantue, a youth of fifteen. He did 
not mention however that he paid him a paltry salary 
and did not feed him as well as he did his swine. 
The second was from the boy himself and the deceit 
of it was almost self evident. It was teeming with 
happy reminiscences of the boy’s stay at the Colony 


i 62 


THE GUILTY MAN 


and of gratitude to Captain Caillou for his kindness. 
It was a most opportune time for the Captain to 
show those letters, for three days later the boy ran 
away from his employer, after having destroyed all 
the furniture in his bedroom and stolen a bag filled 
with twenty-franc pieces. 

“Very fine, very fine indeed,” repeated the Inspec- 
tor. 

The half-hour was almost over. 

“Will you continue your examination?” asked the 
Captain suavely. 

Needless to say, only one or two floors were shown 
him, the blacksmith’s shop, which always created 
a favorable impression; and the brush making fac- 
tory — “a most remunerative feature for the admin- 
istration, sir.” 

“Here is a very remarkable piece of work which 
one of our boys is making — a horsehair portrait of 
the Chief of State.” 

“Very curious and very well done, indeed,” was 
the comment. 

Suddenly martial music was heard. What a splen- 
did surprise, the Marseillaise I The Inspector was 


THE GUILTY MAN 


163 

now conducted to the path, where the boys stood in 
perfect order, presenting arms. 

“Shoulder arms!” was the command. 

This was indeed a triumph, this parade of the lit- 
tle vagabonds. With their new blouses, polished 
shoes, and hats pulled way down over their faces, 
their appearance was not bad. The Inspector could 
not distinguish, nor did he trouble to read the ex- 
pression of vice and hatred on the faces before him, 
nor the hideous look in their eyes. 

Seen from a distance and in a body they looked 
well cared for and as clean as though they had 
stepped out of band boxes. Alas! although they 
were only children they knew the deceit that was 
being practiced. 

They went through the military manoeuvres, with- 
out a mistake, and with absolute precision. The 
drums rolled, the fanfare of trumpets resounded. 
There was even a young thief among them who was 
helping out as drum major. The company marched 
past with dignity, up and down they went, en masse, 
in sections, to the right, and to the left. At the 
command “Halt,” they stood still before the In- 
spector. 


164 


THE GUILTY MAN 


He was delighted, astonished and expressed his 
enthusiasm. 

“Your charges conduct themselves like veterans, 
Captain,” he said, and Captain Caillou knew that 
he would receive an excellent report for his work 
at the Colony. 

While this parade was in progress, one of their 
number watched it from a hidden angle in the wall. 
The little lame boy, Christian Forgeat, could not 
take part, and he stood silently observing the farce. 
Then he saw his companions disperse and once away 
from the eagle eye of the master, all their pent up 
energy burst forth. The little outcasts, over-heated 
by the exercise, sauntered back to the house, joking 
about the exhibition and laughing aloud. 

Christian looked earnestly at his companions 
of misery and never had they seemed to him so dis- 
tasteful and hideous. With his dislike, there was 
mingled a confused pity and even a strange subtle 
attraction. He understood the hatred which pois- 
oned their young lives, and the ungovernable temper 
which their protests against Cruel Fate had created. 
In his childish heart he felt that they would avenge 


THE GUILTY MAN 


165 


their lot in some way; he even made excuses for 
them, they had suffered so much. 

Then he grew introspective again. Wasn’t he a 
goody goody and a coward to accept abuse so 
weakly? Wasn’t there more loyalty in their cyn- 
icism, more bravery in their revolt? Oh! how weak 
and insufficient were the seeds of honor and duty, 
which Simon Benoit had planted in the barren soil 
of the little soul ! And his friend was not here now 
to cry, “Courage ! be brave, my boy.” 

Just a little while before, when he had submitted 
to the unjust cruel punishment of the discipline 
chamber, he had taken an oath to hold to the teach- 
ing of his one friend, to persevere in carrying out 
his advice. And now, as he saw all his miserable 
companions in a group, he was fascinated by the 
state of mind they seemed to exude, infected with 
it as it were, and an uncontrollable desire to be one 
of them seized hold of the boy — an irresistible im- 
pulse to march with the army of crime and revenge. 


CHAPTER XII 


THE father's repentance 

The development of the unfortunate lame boy has 
absorbed so much of our attention that we have 
temporarily forgotten to wonder what has become of 
his father, Christian Lescuyer, who entered upon 
his career untroubled by a crime which he thought 
honor and respectability justified. 

Has he been happy since he abandoned Perrinette 
Forgeat to a miserable lot, from which death had 
mercifully removed her? In the working out of the 
law of cause and effect, could he be at peace with 
himself and the world, when through fault of his an 
innocent little human being was suffering mental tor- 
ture and moral degeneration? Amateur students of 
the vagaries and irony of Fate, do not be surprised 
to hear that he was miserable. 

When he returned to his home at Caen, he was 
enthusiastic about some renovations which he planned 
for it. The old ancestral house was sadly in need 
of repair and his father had at last decided to 


THE GUILTY MAN 


167 


refurnish it. With Christian’s aid he succeeded 
in making it look somewhat less dismal and funereal 
than formerly. 

Of course, his father insisted that he pay his re- 
spects to their Sunday afternoon friend, Madame 
Taburet, and Christian was amazed to see that her 
niece had improved greatly in appearance. 

During his absence old Lescuyer had kept his 
cherished plan in mind and accomplished as success- 
ful a siege in his way, as had Vauban, when he ef- 
fected peace for Louis XIV with Matoicht, and all 
that was left for the king to do was to make a tri- 
umphal entry into the city and accept the homage 
of the people for his splendid victory. 

The heart and the very important dowry of 
Camille, were offered to Christian Lescuyer, like the 
keys of a city, on a silver tray. He accepted both 
willingly, and the wedding date was set. 

The engagement was a short one, and soon the 
day of the happy event arrived. The coincidences 
which occur in one’s life time are such as to convince 
even the least philosophical of us, that our destinies 
hang on a thread, whose deflection in one direction 
or another is caused by the slightest breeze. 


i68 


THE GUILTY MAN 


As Christian Lescuyer was dressing for his wed- 
ding, the daily mail came. He scanned the mis- 
cellaneous assortment of bills and congratulations 
hastily, and was about to throw them all into his 
desk, when a coarse envelope caught his eye. He 
looked for a moment at the address written in an 
untutored hand and it brought back a host of recol- 
lections, which he supposed were buried fathoms 
deep in a corner of his brain labelled “Lived Expe- 
riences.” A shade of vexation crossed his face. 
That writing had caused him annoyance before — it 
was Perrinette’s. 

The little florist told her dear friend that she was 
the proud mother of a fine strapping little son. His 
birth had been duly recorded and he had been bap- 
tized Christian. “I hope that will not displease 
you,” she had written. But not a word did this 
timid honest girl mention of their past, nor a request 
that he provide for their child as he had promised, 
in fact the tone of the letter showed that the writer 
felt she was communicating with her superior. 
Nevertheless the receipt of this letter at so inoppor- 
tune a time made Christian Lescuyer violently angry. 

“I wonder if she thinks I consider myself the 


THE GUILTY MAN 


169 


father of her child.’* His brain repeated mechan- 
ically the thought with which he had succeeded in 
deluding himself when he abandoned her. He 
threw her letter into the fire. 

An hour later, he knelt aj: the side of Mademoi- 
selle Camille Letourneur, and before the elite of 
Caen became her husband. 

No doubt at just about the same time Perrinette 
watched the old accoucheuse arrange the cards on 
her bed, and devoured hopefully the words of proph- 
ecy which promised that the “jack of diamonds 
(Christian) would soon appear on the scene and 
take care of the “queen of hearts” (Perinette) ; but 
the “jack of diamonds” and the “queen of hearts” 
never met again in this world. 

The “jack of diamonds” was named for the posi- 
tion of assistant judge at Bayeux and went to live 
there with his young wife. By nature a hard worker, 
he did not even wait until his honeymoon was over 
to plunge into his law books. 

“Lescuyer is a conscientious fellow” was the com- 
ment of his colleagues, and the women agreed that 
his wife was a good housekeeper. Excellent traits, 
surely— what more could one desire for a happy 


170 


THE GUILTY MAN 


home and a successful future? The death of old 
Lescuyer and Madame Taburet within a few weeks 
of each other made both Christian and his wife in- 
dependently rich. Their world was well satisfied 
with them and found no reason for criticism. Public 
opinion, which we know is always inspired by jus- 
tice, believes that wealth without virtue is immoral, 
and conversely. The charitable view point would 
sanction the combination of money with goodness, 
and poverty with sin. Unfortunately the opposite 
coupling often occurs, and the public in order not 
to contradict this beautiful principle closes its eyes 
to any violation of it. It cannot see the vice of the 
rich and the virtue of the poor and wisely asserts 
that “all things are arranged for the best.” 

The future certainly looked bright for this for- 
tunate couple. Christian Lescuyer had realized his 
dream of a correct and irreproachable existence. 
Once in a while, but so seldom that it does not de- 
serve to be mentioned, his conscience would prick 
him on Perrinettels account. But this reminder of 
his life in Paris was as fleeting as a summer cloud, 
which passes across the sun and obscures it for just 
an instant. He was never tired — hard workers have 


THE GUILTY MAN 


171 

no time to even think of fatigue. Public esteem was 
his — and to complete the perfect picture he had a 
sweet intelligent wife whom he cared for and who 
adored him. Was there any detail omitted which 
might have been more conducive to domestic hap- 
piness? No, none whatever. 

Camille Lescuyer looked forward eagerly to the 
time when she would become a mother — the event 
which was to be the crowning point in the happiness 
of the young couple. Unfortunately she gave pre- 
mature birth to her child and it lived only a few 
days. 

Poor little woman — she, who had all the necessary 
qualifications for perfect motherhood, might never 
have the opportunity to make use of her highest 
functions. Her attending physician had warned her 
husband that her life would be endangered if ever 
she became pregnant again. 

After several years, when her health was much 
improved, she surprised her husband one day by con- 
fiding to him that she was “enceinte.” He was de- 
lighted, for he desired to be the father of a family. 

“Take good care of yourself, dear, remain at 
home as much as possible,” was the advice of her 


172 


THE GUILTY MAN 


well meaning friends. And Camille followed their 
instructions to the letter. She never left the house, 
scarcely lifted her arm, was afraid to move and 
spent all her time reclining in an invalid’s chair ! 

Christian hurried home from court every day to 
inquire tenderly how she felt. The contrast is ap- 
palling when one considers the solicitude which at- 
tended the prenatal condition of the one child, and 
then reflects upon the miserable influence which was 
being brought to bear at the same time upon Chris- 
tian, Lescuyer’s first-born, the little vagabond of 
the streets of Paris. 

The accouchement of Madame Lescuyer had very 
tragic consequences. Her baby was a sickly puny 
little girl, whose every breath was an effort, and the 
mother died without ever having seen the child for 
whom she had given her life. 

On the eve of her death, Christian Lescuyer re- 
ceived a splendid appointment in Caen. He was 
happy, at the prospect of returning to his ancestral 
home with his wife and child, but Fate decreed that 
he should go back to it a widower, with a delicate 
little daughter. 

The best doctors the town afforded were called in 


THE GUILTY MAN 


173 


to give their diagnosis of the child’s condition, and 
they were all of the opinion that the chances for her 
thriving were slim. 

“Perhaps with the greatest care she might live, 
but it was doubtful.” 

Christian Lescuyer was in despair. He could not 
even work, but sought relief in a hobby, closing 
himself up for hours at a time in the library, where 
he made an intensive study of ancient customs. But 
every once in a while the recollection of his mis- 
fortune filled him with an inexpressible sadness, and 
he could not concentrate his mind on his work. 
Grief overmastered him, self-pity conquered him — 
and he would fall forward heavily on the quarto 
volume open before him, sobbing convulsively. The 
man typified abject misery and suffering. 

Only a violent diversion from self and sorrow 
could save him, an activity which might arouse the 
man. As soon as the Franco-Prussian war became 
a reality he enlisted, not from a motive of patriot- 
ism, but instead impelled by the urgent need of doing 
something, and perhaps with a secret desire of being 
killed to end his misery. He served in the army of 
the Loire, fought like a man who wants to die, and 


174 


THE GUILTY MAN 


was twice wounded. After peace was declared, he 
added the soldier’s decoration to his judicial robes. 

As a result of his military experience he had be- 
come more resigned and calmed, but was not recon- 
ciled to his lonesome life. The health of his little 
daughter was somewhat improved, and in conse- 
quence his interest in his work revived a bit. At 
last Time, the universal consoler, ameliorated his 
suffering, and his friends felt that with all propriety 
they might now urge him to remarry. 

“Why not marry a settled girl of about thirty 
years of age? She need not be rich for surely he 
had enough for both. Then he would know that his 
little Marie was having the proper attention, and 
he would be happy again.” Christian listened 
quietly and saw the wisdom of their advice. 

One October night, when little Marie’s life was 
despaired of he turned from her cradle to the li- 
brary more despondent than ever. He knew in- 
stinctively that his child could not live. As he en- 
tered the large unfriendly room, with its endless 
rows of books in dark bindings, he became greatly 
agitated. As if to intensify his condition, (for color 
has an acknowledged effect on the emotions), the 


THE GUILTY MAN 


175 


lamp on his desk threw out a sickly green light which 
scarcely illumined the work table. He hurriedly lit 
the two candles on the mantel piece, and as he did so 
his own reflection stared back at him from the mir- 
ror above. He stood rivetted to the spot, aston- 
ished by his own changed appearance. 

“My God — how thin and old I have grown!’’ he 
cried, “how gray my hair is 1” 

And indeed it was true — his bushy eyebrows, the 
Lescuyer distinguishing mark, made him look like 
the reincarnation of his austere unsympathetic fa- 
ther. He resented his likeness to the man whom he 
had never learned to love, before whom as a child 
and a young man he had always experienced an un- 
controllable fear. Out of tune with himself and the 
world, he indulged in a sad revery and long retro- 
spection. 

Since his wife died, he had often thought, with 
growing remorse, of his treatment of Perrinette. 
Alas 1 it was due to his intense fear of his father’s 
anger that he had abandoned her eight years earlier. 
This was the one great sin of an otherwise blameless 
life, and little did he realize how far-reaching its 


176 


THE GUILTY MAN 


effects had been, and how terrible they were destined 
to become. 

To-night, when misery (largely due to self-pity) 
had softened his heart, he realized that he had been 
cruel and very unjust to her. 

“As thou sowest, so shalt thou reap” — he thought 
perhaps all his misfortune was due to his sin of eight 
years ago. The death of his wife, his sad widower- 
hood — the delicacy of his only child — were not all 
these sorrows an expiation? 

Christian Lescuyer was religious by nature ; he be- 
lieved in an avenging Justice. Having sinned, he 
was punished and he bowed to the will of the Most 
High. And the irony of it all was that his friends 
advised him to remarry — to become happy again ! 

Happiness? It was not for him, he was unworthy 
of it, he had forfeited all claim to it by his cruelty. 
He repeated his harsh arraignment of self — it was 
nothing short of villainy to abandon a woman whom 
he had loved, when she most needed his protection. 
As a judge he had passed sentence, depriving men 
of their liberty, accusing them harshly for trifling in- 
fringements of the law. If his own offense was not 


THE GUILTY MAN 


177 


against the Code, then surely it was punishable in 
the eyes of conscience. 

But what was he to do? In all justice did it suffice 
that evil had received its due punishment when pos- 
sibly there was a chance for reparation? If he were 
to kneel in the confessional, what would the priest 
order him to do? Not only to do penance, to give 
to charity, to read his prayers, but to search for the 
victims of his wickedness and to neutralise its effects 
in every possible way. 

The possibility of retribution and consequent peace 
gripped hold of the man’s mind. Yes, he would 
try — that was clearly his duty, and the only course 
open to a man of honor. He would find Perrinette 
and her child (in woeful misery probably) and bet- 
ter late than never give them the monetary assistance 
of which they were no doubt pitifully in need. 

Whether or not he were the father of the little 
Christian, of whose birth Perrinette had written, 
was of little importance. He would take complete 
charge of the boy’s education, become his guardian, 
try to love him — would try to love him as though he 
were in reality his own son. Then and then only 
could he find the peace of mind he sought — his sin 


178 


THE GUILTY MAN 


would at last be atoned for. As if he were asking a 
reward for his own goodness, he fell on his knees 
and* prayed to the all merciful Father to spare his 
little Marie’s life. 

It was toward the end of October when the judges 
were granted their vacation. Eight days more and 
Christian Lescuyer would be free to go where he 
pleased. His eagerness for repentance was still 
strong, and he decided to go to Paris to realize it. 

But in finding a person of whom one has lost 
track the proverbial “needle in the haystack” applies 
in greater degree to Paris than perhaps to any 
other large city in the world. In vain Christian Les- 
cuyer sought out all the old haunts, without finding 
a trace of Perrinette and her little boy. 

Although he had destroyed her letter the day he 
married, he had a vague recollection of the name 
and address of the accoucheuse at whose house it was 
written. But Mother Lagasse had died two years 
before, and her successor knew nothing of this one 
of the many girls who had spent ten days of their 
lives in the old woman’s charge, and then disap- 
peared into the big world. Then he went to the little 
house on the Rue d’Ulm, where Perrinette had lived. 


THE GUILTY MAN 


179 


but the rickety building had been torn down. He 
went to the police as a last resort and searched num- 
erous records, but all to no avail — not the slightest 
trace was to be found. 

At this time the little Christian was living 
with his so-called father Aubry, after his mother’s 
death. He carried a name which was not his, was 
on the verge of becoming a vagabond and later, a 
charge of the State. Had Christian Lescuyer’s im- 
pulse for atonement but asserted itself six months 
later, he might have found the name he sought in the 
jail book “Christian Forgeat, sent to the colony for 
vagabondage.” But just at this time chances for 
finding the child were less likely than those for dis- 
covering a small bird in a vast forest. All efforts 
were fruitless. 

After a week of tiring and unavailing search, he 
decided to return to Caen, but made up his mind to 
visit his old friend, the sculptor, before he left. Fran- 
gois Donadieu, who had married Heloise several 
years before, was now recognized as a master and 
had executed some excellent and highly remunerative 
commissions. He was earnestly engaged in perfect- 
ing a model for a splendid equestrian statue when 


i8o 


THE GUILTY MAN 


he was disturbed by a knock at the door of his studio. 
He looked up to see a man on the threshold whom 
he thought a stranger. 

The saddened old face with its heavy gray eye- 
brows seemed entirely unfamiliar to him until a sud- 
den trick of memory supplied him with a clue to the 
identity of Christian Lescuyer. 

The artist knew nothing of the pathetic circum- 
stances of his friend’s life — the death of his wife and 
the illness of his little daughter. “You must dine 
with us,” he exclaimed as he kissed Christian affec- 
tionately. 

Then followed an hour of reminiscence, and “do 
you recall this, do you remembef that,” were part 
of every sentence. Christian felt himself unbending 
a bit, as he sat opposite his old friend, and forgotten 
incidents came back of a time when he too had felt 
that he was alive. Toward evening they left the 
studio arm in arm to go to Donadieu’s home in the 
Rue Brea. The little place was very unpretentious, 
but the contentment of the loving couple who lived in 
it made it seem as beautiful as a palace. Heloise, 
as happy as ever, but very much stouter than she had 
been, was setting the table as the two entered the 


THE GUILTY MAN 


i8i 


little dining-room. She, too, kissed Christian affec- 
tionately and then hurried to prepare the supper. 

As soon as they sat down at the table, a large cat 
of an ugly rust color, jumped up on the tablecloth 
and made himself entirely comfortable beside Ma- 
dame Donadieu’s plate. 

“Ah! there you are, you lazy animal,” she said. 
“Come here this minute,” she continued as though 
she were speaking to her beloved child, and kissed the 
big tom cat lovingly between the ears. He accepted 
this caress with utmost indifference as though he 
were accustomed to it. 

“Don’t be shocked, your Honor,” said Donadieu; 
“allow me to present ‘Bonnet a poils’ who is as im- 
portant a member of this household as its master. 
You know we are not in the fashionable world, and 
that cat must have his place at this table, otherwise 
the mistress would not be able to digest her dinner. 
And he must have his share served on the side of her 
plate.” 

“But what can one do,” he added with a touch of 
sadness in his voice, “if one has no children one must 
be satisfied with animals.” 

Throughout the meal, Donadieu, who was so 


i 82 


THE GUILTY MAN 


happy in seeing his old friend again, was very amus- 
ing and told a thousand and one funny little incidents 
of their former good times. Even Christian, who 
thought he had forgotten how to be merry, smiled. 
The good natured Heloise laughed heartily, but not 
for a moment did she neglect Bonnet-a-poils, who in 
her opinion, was a most important member of that 
dinner party. She gave him the choicest morsels, 
while she talked to him, calling him a hypocritical 
pussy cat, and accusing him of all sorts of treachery, 
at which he did not seem a bit offended. 

Christian felt it his duty to stroke the cat’s head 
and admire his fur. 

“Donadieu is right,” said Heloise, “we could not 
love a baby more than we do this cat. He worried 
us terribly last winter — ^you know he is not young 
any more, past seven years. Just think, the poor 
thing had the rheumatism so badly and that idiot of 
a veterinary prescribed salicylate, but I wouldn’t have 
it. They say it goes to the head, and Bonnet-a-poils 
is so intelligent, I couldn’t take the risk!” 

Christian left his friends, delighted with the sim- 
plicity of their home life and their complete hap- 
piness. 


THE GUILTY MAN 


183 


“How content Donadieu is!” he thought with a 
sigh of regret and envy as he sped along in the train 
toward Caen. “Ah ! those who accept life as it comes 
are wise, and those who do not sacrifice their con- 
ception of love on the altar of public prejudice and 
renounce their chance for happiness to meet the de- 
mands of prevailing social customs live while they 
live. 

“As for myself — my one chance for the right life 
is at an end — I wished to atone for the crime of my 
youth, but I am destined to continue with that load 
on my conscience.” 

He came back and became more than ever the 
hermit in his dismal so-called home. Study and work 
were his companions. His little Marie, though very 
delicate, was growing up under the care of ser- 
vants. The years rolled on monotonously. The re- 
spect of all the town was his — people admired his 
honesty, sympathized with his loneliness, and won- 
dered at his devotion to his wife’s memory. He was 
considered an excellent judge and was again pro- 
moted to a higher position in the judiciary. 

His future prospects were brilliant, but his real- 
ized ambitions were of no value to him, because he 


184 


THE GUILTY MAN 


had no one with whom to share his success. In fact 
his only reason for devotion to his work was that 
he might find in it a diversion from his incurable 
sadness. As time went on this remorse lessened. 
Nevertheless, during his long nights of solitary work 
he often stopped to reflect, and his torturing thoughts 
made his mind their prey. Somewhere in the world 
he knew there was a child whom he had abandoned to 
his misfortune, and who in his turn no doubt cursed 
the father whom he had never known. Keen an- 
guish gripped the unhappy man and crushed his 
spirit. 

Perhaps his heavy heart beats were the echoes 
of the steps of his little son, who was marching up 
and down until he almost fell from exhaustion in 
the discipline chamber at the Colony. 


CHAPTER XIII 


THE STRUGGLE FOR WORK 

It was about six o’clock on the evening of a very 
hot day at the end of August. Le Quai d’Horloge, 
on which the oldest part of the Palais du Justice 
stands, was absolutely deserted. The only persons 
about were a soldier on guard before the entrance 
of the conciergerie and one idler who stood, with 
his chin resting on his arms, intently watching the 
current of the Seine. 

In this section of the quais of Paris there are no 
lower wharfs, and in consequence the wall extends 
perpendicularly into the stream for a considerable 
distance. Here the river is narrower than in any 
other place. Its current is very swift and rushes on 
with fascinating rapidity. The spot is very danger- 
ous, particularly for small boats, and even a large 
vessel is subject to risks. The first arch, that of the 
Pont-au-Change, is called “the devil’s arch,” in the 
sailors’ vernacular. More than one raft and several 


i86 


THE GUILTY MAN 


sailing barges have been dashed to pieces there by 
the violence of the under current. 

If the loiterer who stood watching the surging 
rapid water had a desire to commit suicide, he had 
chosen the proper place. 

He was young, of slight physique and dark com- 
plexion, and had a thick crop of black hair, which 
was visible under his cheap straw hat. His old gray 
suit, which had become faded and shapeless in its 
long service, was almost threadbare, but the clean 
hands, spotless linen and polished shoes gave evi- 
dence of an attempt to preserve self respect, to be as 
presentable as possible. 

With a conscious effort to tear himself away from 
the fascination of the stream and the train of 
tliought it suggested, the young man left the spot 
determinedly. He was lame. His features were re- 
fined, but his face was pale and sunken; his eyes 
were large and dark, his eyebrows bushy. His facial 
expression revealed extreme moral and mental dis- 
tress. 

He glanced sadly at the old towers of the palace, 
and then although he was overcome by fatigue and 
he knew the current had a mysteriously depressing 


THE GUILTY MAN 


187 


attraction for him, he returned to the place he had 
just left, resumed his position with his head buried 
in his hands and remained for a long time in that 
dejected attitude. 

This unhappy man, out of employment, (like 
whom there are unfortunately so many in any large 
city), was none other than Christian Forgeat, now 
a free citizen according to law. He had reached 
his majority four years before, and since that time 
had been struggling with the difficulties of making 
an honest livelihood. 

What effect had the system of regeneration which 
was enforced at the “Colonie du Plateau” exerted 
upon the morals of Christian Forgeat? What were 
the influences which had been brought to bear upon 
the character and intelligence of this poor devil by 
the uncontrollable fury of Captain Caillou, the fierce 
brutality of his assistants, the dungeon and the daily 
contact with other vagabonds, nearly all of whom 
were completely depraved? Had the agricultural 
training imbued him with a love for the arts or 
stirred his imagination, as the theory had promised? 
Or had he even carried away an enthusiasm for the 
trade of brushmaking? 


i88 


THE GUILTY MAN 


This wonderful programme for moral uplift, in- 
cluding the farming idea, the brush-making industry 
and the cruel treatment, this perfect method of edu- 
cation for the abandoned and truant child, would 
have made of Christian Forgeat, as it did of his 
associates, a scoundrel of the worst and lowest order, 
had it not been for the chance influence in that fright- 
ful Colony of the consumptive young teacher, Simon 
Benoit, who had manifested a great interest in the 
boy. His memory kept bright the little flame of 
honor which still burned in the soul of the unfor- 
tunate man. 

Christian had reached the age of reason when he 
lost this dear, dear friend, and, though he spent 
several years in the miserable atmosphere of the 
Colony after Benoit’s death, it was as if the memory 
of his dear teacher guarded his conscience, for he 
left the Colony at his coming of age not corrupt and 
dissolute like the other boys. 

When he was released he hoped to keep as a re- 
serve fund his little sum of earnings in the brush- 
making factory which amounted to a scant hundred 
francs, for from them had been deducted the cost of 
material. 


THE GUILTY MAN 


189 


Christian still felt the influence of Simon Benoit 
ten years after his death. His kindness was such 
as could never be forgotten. All the poor consump- 
tive’s savings amounted to twenty louis, and these 
he left to his favorite pupil, with his watch, a heavy 
old fashioned “oignon,” which he requested his 
heir to keep always. When the time came for 
Christian’s blessed release from the Colony, the 
legacy was given him, and he left feeling as though 
he had come into a fortune. 

As Christian Forgeat sat on the hard wooden 
bench of the third class coach which carried him to 
Paris, he closed his eyes so that nothing should dis- 
tract his mind from his reflections, and made plans 
for his future, now that he was free — free at last. 
The authorities had given him the address of a 
manufacturer who would employ him — a special 
mark of satisfactory work permitted only to the 
pantes. But he realized that manual labor was not 
his forte and that he could earn only a pittance in 
the trade. Then, too, he felt a certain repugnance 
at the prospect of acknowledging his long term at 
the Colony, for he had greater ambition than to 
be a mere mechanic. Encouraged and aided by 


190 


THE GUILTY MAN 


Simon Benoit he had not only finished the prescribed 
primary school course, but in addition had read some 
useful books and learned how to think. 

“As long as I have money and time I am going 
to look for a better position — in an office, if I can 
find it. I don’t care to be a workman and I don’t 
want to meet any of the boys from the Colony,” he 
thought. “Yes, I am willing to try — Monsieur 
Benoit gave me that advice hundreds of times.” 

He bought some new clothes, decided to drop all 
the slang he had acquired at the Colony and to 
try to give the impression of being a young provin- 
cial seeking work in Paris. 

“Ah, if only I can succeed in destroying all recol- 
lection of my miserable youth and in finding some 
small position, how happy I shall be!” was his con- 
stant thought. 

He wished to raise himself little by little in the 
new surroundings where he was unknown, but in- 
stinct assured him he would meet with inhospitality. 
If only he might be a credit to the advice of his dear 
teacher whose watch beat so regularly next to his 
heart I 

Alas I on what chance does the realization of one’s 


THE GUILTY MAN 


191 

dreams and highest hopes depend? Christian’s ap- 
pearance was greatly against him, and he showed 
clearly his inexperience. To every application he 
received the same reply: 

“Where do you come from? Where have you 
worked before? what can you do?” 

To all these questions he gave the same hesitating 
answer. It was not long before the tailor, the hotel, 
and the employment office, where he had paid a fee 
for a position, had completely diminished his little 
fund. In going from place to place to the addresses 
which had been given him, the familiar scenes of his 
childhood’s vagabondage aroused that instinct in him 
again. He continued to seek employment, but all to 
no avail. As he left a merchant who told him to 
call again in three months, he said to himself : 

“Bah! I shall be happily placed by that time.” 
He spent the rest of the day idling about, enjoying 
to the full the intimate joys of the child of Paris 
who has been away from his beloved city a long 
time and seeks out all his old haunts. A great deal 
of valuable time was lost in that way, and the temp- 
tation of the streets was given a chance to make its 
appeal. 


192 


THE GUILTY MAN 


At just the time when his resources were about 
exhausted and the future looked very discouraging, 
Christian found means of earning a few cents. It 
was not a very good position, but at least it insured 
him a night’s lodging and sufficient food. He was 
accepted as a salesman in a temporary bazaar on 
the first floor of an unfinished building, but he lacked 
the assurance of a hawker, the trick of speech to 
enlist attention in crying out, “See the big sale, bar- 
gains, — All prices marked to 13, 17, 27, etc.” The 
other two clerks, who had experience, took a dis- 
like to him, ridiculed him, giving him the sobriquet 
of “LImpy” on account of his Infirmity. After a 
fortnight he was dismissed. 

His success In two or three other places was no 
greater, and his prospects looked very discouraging. 
Every morning the landlord of the house where he 
had a little attic room threatened to dispossess him, 
and then he started out afresh In search of work. 
In sheer desperation he presented himself with his 
papers to the manufacturer of brushes whose ad- 
dress had been given him when he left the Col- 
ony. 

The man received him uncivilly. 


THE GUILTY MAN 


193 


‘‘You should have come to me as soon as you 
were sent,” he said. “Now we are having the dull 
season — and heaven knows what you have been 
doing in the three months you have been trotting 
the street — I’ve had enough of those ex-jailbirds 
anyhow.” 

In every place he received the same answer, “No 
work, no work.” Christian gave his last francs for 
his room and lived on one frugal meal a day of 
bread and water. 

Despite his misery, he was animated by a desire 
to carry out the last wishes of Simon Benoit, and so 
refused to part with the old watch. For him it was 
a sort of fetich, a talisman. Every night, as he 
lay on his pallet of straw, he took the watch from 
under his pillow, looked at it lovingly, and listened 
childishly to its regular tick, tock. It seemed to him 
that something of his friend was still alive in the 
old metal case. No ! the little flicker of conscience 
was not dead, his promise to remain honest still 
lived. 

One winter evening, about seven o’clock, Chris- 
tian Forgeat, who had reached the limit of his re- 


194 


THE GUILTY MAN 


sources, walked slowly along the railing which en- 
circled the Place St. Jacques. 

“Haven’t I another sou in my pocket,” he 
thought, “where am I to get the fifty centimes to 
pay my night’s lodging? I must have a couple of 
sous to get something to eat.” 

His lunch had consisted of a little roll, and that 
was all he had had to eat during the day. What 
was he to do?” 

Suddenly as he passed a lamp post, a man stopped 
him and cried, “Hello — le Boiteux!” 

Christian was startled. “Le Boiteux” was his 
nickname at the Colony. He looked at the fellow, 
who had hailed him, recognized him immediately 
and said — 

“Hello, Grosse Caisse.” 

The meeting annoyed Christian — up to this time 
he had succeeded in avoiding all his former asso- 
ciates and now he had come across one of the worst 
of them. 

Mahurel (called “Grosse Caisse” because he had 
beaten the drum on the memorable occasion when the 
inspector visited the Colony) was one of a large 
family of criminals, and boasted of being the grand- 


THE GUILTY MAN 


195 


son of a man who had been hanged, which was a rare 
distinction in the penitentiary, constituting the test 
for aristocracy. There was not one of the inmates 
who did not wish he had an ancestor who had been 
guillotined. 

Christian had not worked at the same trade as 
Mahurel, so knew him very slightly. He remem- 
bered “Grosse Caissc” however as a perfect brute. 

Liberty had not served to improve the young ex- 
convict. After examining Christian from head to 
foot (and in spite of his poverty his appearance was 
still neat) he said: 

“A whole suit and clean linen — ^you must have 
cash. Say, buy us a drink, will you?’’ 

Christian’s old habit of speech unconsciously came 
back to him and he answered in slang: 

“Not me — haven’t got a red.” 

Grosse Caisse sneered stupidly. 

“Not a red? It didn’t do you much good to be 
smart in school and be dismissed with a number one 
record — ’t’aint possible ” 

“It’s true,” answered Christian, impelled to ad- 
mit the truth by the need for self pity, “not a red, 
and haven’t had a thing since noon.” 


196 


THE GUILTY MAN 


“Too bad,” said Grosse Caisse in his hoarse voice, 
“I’m in the same fix, but I can help out an old pal — 
come with me to the Chatelet Theatre. Of course 
your legs are out of business, but I stand in with the 
manager. He’ll take you in the mob and we’ll get 
twenty sous each — will you take me up?” 

Twenty sous! Enough to pay his lodging and 
not die of hunger. Christian could not afford to 
be squeamish. 

“That suits me, thanks, Mahurel,” he said. 

Five minutes later the two had joined a crowd of 
toughs and ruffians in an alley behind the theatre, 
where they were looked over by Monsieur Ernst, 
the manager. 

“You bring me a limper,” he said to Grosse Caisse 
angrily; “do you want to spoil the scene for the sake 
of giving your friends a job? — Still, I have some 
decent men to be the gentlemen, so he can be one 
of the people. You take care of him and poke his 
elbow when I count three, when all cry out, ‘Death 
to Concini, death to Concini.’ You’ll be paid after 
the show is over. Go on, all of you now and get 
dressed.” 

Between two scenes of a fairy play the manage- 


THE GUILTY MAN 


197 


ment had arranged to present an old melodrama of 
historic setting whose action took place at about the 
time of the death of Marechal Ancre. In the so- 
called dressing-room Christian put on a disgustingly 
filthy costume, and coached by Mahurel learned to 
cry, “Vive le Roi,” at the proper cue, when Louis 
XIII entered. 

Christian Forgeat felt as though he had fallen 
into his old surroundings, for he saw the same type 
of face and heard the same language which he had 
grown to know so well at the Colony. 

At the third count Monsieur Ernst, who directed 
the chorus said: 

“Attention to the entrance of the Queen Mother. 
All together now: ‘Down with the Italian, death 
to Concini.’ ” 

The actress who occasioned this outburst was a 
large handsome woman. Her speech delivered in a 1 
stage whisper was : 

“Ah! Monsieur Marechal, the people hate you.” 

Grosse Caisse murmured to Christian: 

“That woman is Madame Armand — ^the one who 
used to be so beautiful. Say, look at her sparklers 
— nab those earrings and collar for me, will you— 


198 


THE GUILTY MAN 


they say they’re worth over two hundred thousand 
“balles” (francs). 

“And say, limper, if you want this job again to- 
morrow, be sure you don’t spoil the ‘Mort a Con- 
cini.’ ” 

Christian earned twenty sous, and the next day 
and for several days following he took his place in 
the mob for, although he thoroughly detested his 
new position, the small sum he received kept body 
and soul alive. By helping in this small way he con- 
tributed to the success of the political scheme which 
had for its object the expulsion of the Italian con- 
spirators and the avenging of the death of the late 
king. 

Several evenings later a large important looking 
man came into the theatre the mere mention of whose 
name caused a wave of fear and respect to spread 
through the ranks. 

“What does that devil want of us?” said Grosse 
Caisse to Christian. “Is it our fault if Madame 
Armand has lost an earring?” 

As each member of the chorus passed before Mon- 
sieur Ernst to receive his “salary,” the big man eyed 
him like a hunting dog. Christian was thoroughly 


THE GUILTY MAN 


199 


frightened by this look, which reminded him of his 
stepfather and of Captain Caillou. It was evident 
that the search was futile for no one was detained. 

The next morning as Christian left his boarding- 
house, he was surprised to find Mahurel waiting for 
him on the sidewalk. 

“Listen to me, Boiteux,” commenced the other, 
who seemed to be both worried and happy, “answer 
me on the square: have I ever deceived you? You 
wouldn’t snitch on a pal, no matter what happened, 
would you? Would you go back on a fellow that 
had put you on to a job and a feed for the last eight 
days?” 

“You bet I wouldn’t — I’m not that kind,” was the 
reply. 

“Well then, look here,” said Mahurel. “I’m the 
kid that found that earring last night — honest, I 
didn’t hook it, I found it on the ground in the wings 
— no one saw me. It’s all diamonds — the real goods. 
I wager it’s worth at least 2,000 francs. Gee, I 
struck it rich this time — I’ll divvy up with you.” 

During this startling revelation the better im- 
pulses of Christian Forgeat revolted. An instinct. 


200 


THE GUILTY MAN 


which would not be downed, impelled him to say to 
Mahurel : 

“Take care; the earring isn’t yours — ^you must 
give it back — ^you’ll get a big reward, anyhow.” 

Grosse Caisse looked at his companion in amaze- 
ment and derision. 

“Give it back?” he said in a frightful rage, “give 
it back to get one louis from Madame Armand and 
‘thank you, my boy’ — I didn’t think you were 
such a fool. Say, look at me a minute ; do I look like 
the honest driver that you see in pictures with his 
whip in his hand giving back the purse to the country 
jay who dropped it in his hack? Not much, you can 
bet — I didn’t steal — whatever falls into the moat be- 
longs to the soldier. 

“See here; the other day when you hadn’t a thing 
to eat, if you had found twenty francs on the pave- 
ment would you have turned them in? And maybe 
they might have belonged to a poor devil who needed 
them. But Madame Armand, she’s nothing but an 
old cocotte, who has horses and carriages and a big 
house on the Bois. She’s got bunches of jewelry, and 
when I have the luck to find one earring, I should 
give it back for a miserable little tip, and the 


THE GUILTY MAN 


201 


pleasure of having been honest? Nit! I’m not that 
kind of a rube, my friend. The prize Montyon is 
not my kind of beauty, and damn it all, it wouldn’t 
be fair if the hungry fellow didn’t have a stroke of 
luck once in a while.” 

This cynical language was nothing new to Chris- 
tian Forgeat. It was the same as his first companion 
in vagabondage, Natole, had used when he had 
stolen a handful of prunes from the grocer’s stand — 
the same as that with which nearly all the boys at 
the Colony had expressed themselves. 

“Well, do as you please,” was his answer to Ma- 
hurel, with a shrug of the shoulders; “I can’t look 
out for your honesty, and I swear to you the secret 
is just between us. But why did you tell me about 
it?” 

“Because I had a little decency. I invite monsieur 
to go halves with me — I am not a pig, I don’t like to 
have a good time all by myself — and that is the way 
monsiettr takes it.” 

But Christian did not trust Mahurel nor did he 
believe that there was no hidden motive in the con- 
fidence. Presently his suspicions were justified. 

“Well, say, let’s play the game fair. It’s true 


202 


THE GUILTY MAN 


you can do a fellow a good turn ; I have the earring, 
but how can I get the cash for it? At the pawn 
shop? Not a show — they are on — well there’s only 
one other place, Soldmayer, who sells odds and 
ends in the Rue Cadet; he’s always willing to buy 
anything at all if he can get it cheap — but he’ll ask 
first if you stole it, the old skin. I’ve sold him a 
couple of things, just trifles, which I have ‘found.^ 
He’ll offer me two hundred francs when it’s worth 
fifteen times as much. He sees I don’t know what 
they’re worth, so I made up my mind to take you 
to him. Your togs look decent and I’ll pass you off 
as a fellow whose girl sent him to sell her earring. 
The old skate will believe you, and he won’t think 
you are an easy mark like me ; he knows how much 
things are worth, and he’ll give us at least i,8oo 
francs. I’ll give you one-third. Gee, then I’ll get 
me a whole suit at Godchaux and be as swell a guy 
as you; we’ll have a good feed from soup to nuts, 
and finish up at the Val Favier and meet some girls 
there. 

“But of course Mister Limpy has his scru- 
ples,” he continued sarcastically and with an attempt 
at fine language, “and rather than break them he 


THE GUILTY MAN 


203 


would say ‘Zut’ to a friend who put him wise to a 
good job. Say, look here, will you do what I ask? 
I’m afraid you won’t. Well, if you don’t, you’ll be 
as big a scoundrel as all the other beastly rubes and 
honest men.” 

During this entire explanation of Mahurel’s a des- 
perate fight was going on in Christian’s conscience. 
He fully understood his part in the scheme — he was 
to be the accomplice of a thief, to sell the product 
to a receiver of stolen goods! At the Colony, 
among the children of the “Army of Vice,” one 
point of honor was rigorously adhered to, “Never 
go back on a pal.” No matter how depraved he was 
every boy observed this rule to the letter. Chris- 
tian had retained that scruple of the penitentiary. 
He felt he could not say “No” to Grosse Caisse, 
who had voluntarily helped him, even though the 
favor which he demanded was dangerous and com- 
promising. 

“All right,” he said briskly, “I’ll do it — lead the 
way.” ■ 

“Hurrah 1” said Mahurel joyously. “Here comes 
the omnibus; I have ten sous left — I can afford to 
pay.” 


204 


THE GUILTY MAN 


A half hour later the two reached the Montmatre 
district in its early morning bustle, and Mahurel 
pointed out a little shop at the corner of the Rue 
Cadet. 

“Here we are,” he said. 

The place was a sort of classical den in pictur- 
esque disorder and with the usual mysterious attrac- 
tion. Among the ordinary cast-olf clothes hanging 
from every corner of the door were some full-dress 
suits. In one corner there was a uniform ornamented 
with green palms which constituted the only evi- 
dence of immortality left by a deceased academician, 
and suspended in another was a trumpet a la 
Dampierre, which had often sounded the start of 
the hunt and the loud fanfare of the full cry, which 
had warned the gay riders of the approaching 
storm. In the glass showcase were some pieces of 
old lace, some bowls filled with buttons of all kinds, 
miniatures, sold for just the worth of their frames, 
a silver flute, two or three crosses of honor with 
faded ribbons — all of them telling their own sad 
stories. This heterogeneous collection was fascin- 
ating and depressing in its variety. Under another 
glass cover some very beautiful pieces of jewelry 


THE GUILTY MAN 


205 


were displayed, and on the ticket attached to each 
one was written the word “Occasion” (bar- 
gain), and the prices were comparatively reason- 
able. 

“Let’s go in,” said Mahurel to his companion 
pushing him ahead. 

Christian saw a small bald-headed man behind the 
counter. It was Soldmayer who was polishing a 
heavy gold bracelet. 

As he looked up and saw the two visitor: in the 
half light he quickly hid the bracelet in a drawer 
and stepped from behind the counter to wait on 
them. 

He had neither the appearance nor the bearing of 
a merchant. He was short, fat and very pale, 
with heavy black whiskers and a head as smooth as 
a billiard ball. His age was about forty. He wore 
a well tailored suit and clean linen. A heavy gold 
watch chain and a big diamond stud were very 
evident. 

He would not have changed places with a mem- 
ber of the Bourse. 

“Ah! there you are, Grosse Caisse,” he said in a 


2o6 


THE GUILTY MAN 


thick voice after suspiciously examining the two pals, 
“but I don’t know the other fellow. Who is he?” 

Then Grosse Caisse told his story very glibly. 

“A young man whom a fashionable young woman 
is in love with,” he said, “a cocotte, is willing to 
sacrifice everything because she loves ‘le Boiteux’ — 
she loves him just for himself no doubt! And the 
Marquise disposes of her jewels one after the other 
— this time it is an earring which she did not care to 
send to the pawnbroker to whom she sent the other 
for fear she would lose them both.” 

Soldmayer interrupted with a laugh. 

“All that stuff is lies,” he said; “the woman would 
have come herself. But it makes no difference ; show 
me the earring anyhow and I’ll make you a price. 
But you know my rules : once the business is finished, 
I’ve never seen you, never known either one of you, 
do you understand?” 

Christian, to whom Mahurel had entrusted the 
ornament, took it out of his pocket and handed it to 
Soldmayer. A blush of shame overspread his face. 
His willingness to be an accomplice in this business 
made him seem a culprit in his own eyes. 

Soldmayer went over to the light to examine the 


THE GUILTY MAN 


207 


stones. For two long minutes he watched the play 
of color then said: 

“Three hundred is all I’ll give.” 

“You old hypocrite,” said Mahurel, “you’re jok- 
ing, aren’t you? You can’t offer such a price to the 
Boiteux; he’s up to snuff; he knows what they’re 
worth — isn’t that so, Boiteux? Three hundred — 
not on your life. No more need to talk about it. 
We’ll go to ‘my aunt’ with it.” 

“At the Mont de Piete,” said Soldmayer coolly, 
“you must show your papers and give your address, 
you will not go there — but I’m not a piker. I’ll give 
you twenty napoleons.” 

Then there was animated dispute between the 
thief and the receiver. Mahurel asked one thou- 
sand francs and his opponent laughed at him for 
his pains. 

“I’ll take eight hundred but not a sou less.” Still 
Soldmayer was immovable. As he looked at the 
earring, whose stones scintillated in his hand, he 
repeated over and over again; 

“Four hundred francs, four hundred francs, and 
not one sou more.” 

Christian, despite his friend’s vicious glances, kept 


208 


THE GUILTY MAN 


silent. How could he ever have agreed to come ? he 
wondered. Remorse and disgust were in his heart 
against which he felt the regular ticking of Simon 
Benoit’s watch. 

“Well, ril give five hundred francs,” said Sold- 
mayer in a rage. 

Mahurel, at the end of his rope, gave in. 

Soldmayer went to the darkest corner of the 
shop, pushed aside some rags, which were carelessly 
thrown over a strong box, and opened it carefully. 
Christian observed a revolver lying next to the box, 
placed there no doubt for use in case of a sudden 
attack while the box was open. The sight of the 
weapon filled him with an indescribable fear and he 
realized that he would never forget the iron box in 
the dark corner, nor the pistol, nor the memorandum 
book which reported so many robberies. 

Suddenly the box was closed and soon Christian 
found himself in the street, scarcely conscious of 
having left the shop. Grosse Caisse was with him 
and showed him the five hundred franc bank notes 
in his hand. 

“I promised you one-third of the ‘benef’ but I can 


THE GUILTY MAN 


209 


give you only one hundred ‘balles,’ and then that’s a 
lot,” he said. “You didn’t do very much — the ear- 
ring was worth six times what the old skate gave me, 
and if you’d only opened your mouth ” 

Christian pushed away the hand which held out 
the bank notes toward him. Toe — toe — toe — toe — 
how it beat against his heart, the reminder of his 
honest friend. There was not a minute’s hesitation 
about his refusal. 

“Keep it all for yourself, Mahurel, I don’t want 
any of it, and good-bye.” 

Mahurel was dumbfounded as he watched Chris- 
tian hurry across the street in spite of his lameness 
and disappear in the crowd. This was quite beyond 
his code of ethics. 

For four years Christian Forgeat, the ex-convict, 
lived an honest life finding his daily bread as best 
he could as do the sparrows in winter. 

It did not take long for him to see that he would 
have to give up his ambition of finding a clerical 
position, for he did not write a good hand. This 
qualification was absolutely necessary to obtain the 


210 


THE GUILTY MAN 


most humble place and even Napoleon, whose pen- 
manship was almost illegible, would not have been 
able to fill a clerkship. 

Everywhere the poor fellow received the same 
reply: “Impossible to do anything for you; we need 
a good writer.” 

Christian Forgeat, whose health was not good and 
whose energy had been weakened by his infirmity, 
could offer only his time, but that was not very val- 
uable. How happy he was when he found a place to 
hire himself — to sell the hours of his life as it were ! 
He was entrusted with only such commissions as any 
child could execute. In the hot summer months or 
the cold Januarys he stood patiently at the street 
corners distributing handbills or walked up and down 
the streets, trying to peddle cheap toys. 

Not the slightest chance! Two or three times he 
did find a permanent place. For a long time he was 
the “racoleur” (puller-in) at the door of a second 
hand men’s clothing store; then he carried papers for 
a lawyer, but the old-clothes dealer failed and the 
lawyer was arrested for being a suspicious character. 
So Christian fell back into the lowest depths, sleep- 
ing wherever he could find a place in dark corners. 


THE GUILTY MAN 


21 I 


eating in disgusting coffee houses, and not even be- 
ing able to afford that luxury every day. 

In that low condition whom could he meet, whom 
would he be able to know? Many miserable beings, 
some scoundrels, sometimes an old associate from 
the Colony who had become a thief. Christian never 
shunned them now, but answered their “Tiens, le 
Boiteux,” by a handshake and a friendly word. He 
would accept shamelessly a glass of wine or a stein of 
beer from any of the ruffians, and as he listened to 
the man boasting of his latest stroke of luck he 
would smile encouragingly although he was inward- 
ly disgusted. 

Circumstances destroyed the last vestige of scruple 
he had; his life had been too severe, the world too 
hard, society too unsympathetic. His mind inclined 
toward the worst temptations. He was going 
straight toward crime and vice, and often wondered 
how he had succeeded in resisting their appeal so 
long. 

Whenever a piece of good luck came his way, 
which was very seldom, and he felt a little silver 
jingling in his pocket he went on a jollification. 

This man of twenty-five whose face was refined 


212 


THE GUILTY MAN 


and gentle, whose physique was good, despite his 
lameness, had always taken as good care as possible 
of his personal appearance, because of an innate 
delicacy. His conception of love was only that which 
he had learned in the streets. Simon Benoit’s watch 
did not tick now against the heart, which was becom- 
ing more embittered day by day. The constant re- 
minder of his dear friend had been pawned long ago, 
but Christian had always managed to redeem it. 
Superstition now prompted him to carry the pawn 
ticket with him all the time, and even in the worst 
moments of his miserable existence, when a hatred 
against Fate would surge to his brain, he seemed to 
feel in the paper the tic-toc of the watch which had 
beat against his chest and signified reproach and 
warning. 


CHAPTER XIV 


THE MURDER 

On that stifling night in August when Christian For- 
geat stood with his face, buried in his hands, unsee- 
ingly watching the current of the Seine, he had 
reached his limit of endurance and was absolutely 
despondent. 

Since eight days he had been making every possible 
effort to find work, but although he was willing to 
do anything at all to earn the few sous he needed, he 
found nothing. It was the middle of the summer 
and the dull season. The young man hadn’t eaten 
a morsel since four o’clock in the morning, when he 
had spent his last sou for a stale roll. As he wan- 
dered through the network of little streets around 
Saint-Severin, weak from starvation, he saw a little 
boy throw a crust of bread into the gutter. He 
picked it up and devoured it ravenously, like a fam- 
ished wolf. This bite satisfied the intense gnawing 
of hunger sufficiently for him to drag himself to the 


214 


THE GUILTY MAN 


quay, where he had remained since two o’clock, over- 
come by the weight of his trouble and completely ex- 
hausted by fatigue. 

His thoughts were of self-destruction. 

“Shall I jump over the wall, plunge into the 
stream and end it all?” 

“No,” he answered his own doubts; “how can I 
think of such a thing?” 

He fell into a sort of torpor, his eyes uncon- 
sciously and fixedly staring at the current of the 
stream, which eddied and whirled at his feet. 

The first stroke of seven pealing from a clock on 
the Palais aroused him from the stupor. He started 
as though he had been suddenly awakened from a 
sound sleep. The horror of his condition gripped 
him. 

“Ah! I’ll have to stir myself; I can’t go on with- 
out a sou.” 

Suddenly he remembered the pawn ticket from 
the “Mont de Piete” which he constantly carried 
about him. Yes, that one last resource was left. 
The old watch was worth over one hundred francs 
as old gold, and he had pawned it for forty. He 
would sell the pawn check. That would be twenty- 


THE GUILTY MAN 


215 


five or thirty francs perhaps — not less than thirty 
anyhow — which meant a bed and enough to eat 
for a number of days and one good time — for he 
was seized by a sudden contradiction of tempera- 
ment, one of those Insistent demands for enjoyment 
which asserts Itself In the most depressed beings. 
He let his mind dwell on the pleasure of a good din- 
ner with a litre of wine and a pousse cafe at the 
restaurant Gamache. Later he would sit on the ter- 
race of a brasserie, smoking leisurely and ogling 
the passing girls who accepted the least sign as 
an Invitation to have a drink. 

Why should he keep that old watch any longer — 
it had never brought him any luck, thought Christian. 
As a talisman It had not done him any more good 
than the moral teachings of the man who had left 
it to him. What had become of his pupil after four 
years’ effort to be an honest man? To pick up 
crusts In the gutter? Zut! for all cherished 
memories ! 

“Who buys pawn tickets?” he wondered. Sud- 
denly he remembered Soldmayer on the Rue Cadet, 
to whom he had gone with the earring Grosse Caisse 
had found. Oh, the old cheat! But all the second 


2i6 


THE GUILTY MAN 


hand dealers were alike — and anyhow if he would 
not give thirty francs he would go elsewhere. 

“ril have to hurry so that I get there before the 
shop is closed,” he said to himself. 

The hungry man was strengthened by the hope of 
a good dinner and hurried along. He reached “les 
Halles,” then followed the “Rue Montmartre.” 

It was twilight. The glimpse of the sky to be 
caught between the tall buildings was leaden colored. 
The streets had not been lighted as yet, and the 
crowds seemed bent on hurrying home after their 
day’s work. 

“Close-fisted devil!” thought Christian of Sold- 
mayer, “I wouldn’t trust him for two sous. I can 
still see him opening the secret box behind the old 
clothes with that loaded revolver within easy reach. 
It wouldn’t be safe to rob him; but all I care about 
is to get my thirty francs, for I must go on a jam- 
borie to-night.” 

He stopped a second when he came to the shop. 
The show window was not lit up and one gas jet 
burned inside. He entered resolutely. 

As on the previous occasion he saw the dealer 
seated at his desk writing. 


THE GUILTY MAN 


217 


“What do you want?” said Soldmayer, looking 
him full in the face. 

Christian took the small memorandum book from 
his pocket, opened it and handed the ticket to Sold- 
mayer. 

“How much for this?” he asked. 

The man had not changed in four years — he still 
wore pretentious clothes and flashy jewelry. There 
wasn’t a white hair in his heavy black whiskers. 

He put on his glasses, read the paper, looked 
closely at Christian. Suddenly his face lit up cun- 
ningly as though he had placed the man. 

“Say, you,” he said, “I know you, you came to see 
me once with Grosse Caisse.” 

Christian trembled — the dealer remembered him, 
knew that he had been the accomplice of a thief. 
“He’ll cheat me now for that, but I won’t take a sou 
less than thirty francs.” 

“Poor Grosse Caisse,” said Soldmayer, “has he 
written you the news ? Why did he ever get mixed 
up with that crowd that loot the houses on the ‘Bois- 
Colombes’? — and now he’s doing five years for it. 
Is it possible you did not hear of your friend’s 


2i8 


THE GUILTY MAN 


luck?” he continued In answer to Christian’s look 
of surprise. 

Christian, who did not know that Grosse Calsse 
had gone to prison, began to grow Impatient. 

“Tell me If you want that ticket,” he said. “I 
am not a thief, and I haven’t seen Mahurel since the 
day we were here together. Anyhow, that has 
nothing to do with this business. What will you give 
fork?” 

“I don’t care to have anything to do with the 
pawnshop — they are sometimes overstocked. A 
gold watch, pledged for forty francs? I can 
Imagine what kind It Is, an old ‘oignon.’ I am 
afraid to take the risk — well, for the sake of Grosse 
Calsse 

“Do you want fifteen francs?” he said looking 
hard at Christian. 

“I guess not,” said Christian, “the watch Is old, 
but the case alone Is worth one hundred francs. Be 
reasonable and give me thirty; you’ll make a good 
profit at that.” 

“That’s a fine deal for a father who has a family 
to support,” said the dealer with an Insolent laugh. 
“These street ruffians are amusing. Don’t you sup- 


THE GUILTY MAN 


219 


pose I saw through your game last time about the 
earring? For trying to make me swallow that yarn 
I ought to hand you over and let you keep your 
friend Mahurel company. No doubt that watch 
belonged to your grandmother, hein? Thirty francs 1 
these lambs are great. They get one into a danger- 
ous risky deal and then put on airs and ask for a 
consolidated fund like a Rothschild. Thirty francs 1 
I refuse to give that to a poor widow with a lot of 
orphans, and I have a soft heart, too; I said fifteen 
francs — do you want fifteen francs? No? Good- 
night, there is the door, then.” 

Christian was shaking with rage. Passion and a 
sudden uncontrollable hatred inflamed him against 
this heartless man who wanted to brand him as a 
thief, who humiliated him and heaped insult after 
insult upon him in his cutting sarcastic way. He hid 
his trembling hand in his pocket. What a satisfac- 
tion it would be to slap that greasy face. 

“But what’s the use?” he thought. “It will be 
the same thing anywhere else. One’s as big a cheat 
as the other. Are there any honest men?” 

“All right,” he hissed through his clenched teeth, 
“I’ll take fifteen.” 


220 


THE GUILTY MAN 


Soldmayer shrugged his shoulders and sneered. 
He felt in his pocket, and not finding enough money 
went toward the back of his shop. 

And then — like a lightning flash — ^^Christian re- 
called vividly the strong box hidden among the old 
clothes, the loaded revolver and the portfolio full 
of bank notes. In the same second a crime outlined 
itself in his excited brain. Oh, how reckless and 
impossible that would be under the full blaze of the 
gaslight, two steps from the open door where a 
crowd of people were passing. No matter. This ab- 
normal impulse gripped him, dulled his other sensi- 
bilities like a brain congestion, chilled his flesh and 
made his heart stop beating. 

Soldmayer pushing the hanging clothes aside with 
one hand had just opened the box with the 
other 

With a single leap, the bound of a ferocious beast, 
Christian was upon him, and before the dealer could 
cry out, had grabbed the revolver and discharged 
it three times. 

The injured man rolled into a corner, a stream 
of blood flowing from his bloated right eye. 

Then the murderer, feeling that every hair of his 



THE UNFOKTtJNATE CHILD AND MAN HAD SUFFERED SO INTENSELY THAT HIS CRIME 

SEEMED A deliverance. 

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THE GUILTY MAN 


221 


head was on fire, quickly turned away with the cer- 
tainty that someone had heard the shots and would 
come in from the street. But the heavy omnibuses 
had drowned the sound. Crazed by fright Christian 
threw down the weapon and seized the portfolio, 
emptied in two handfuls a wooden bowl full of gold, 
threw the money into his pocket and rushed out of 
the store. Two minutes later he was in the boule- 
vard Montmartre safely lost in the crowd. 

Four years this poor fellow had struggled, four 
years he had tried every day and unceasingly to re- 
main absolutely honest, and in response to one ter- 
rible irresistible impulse he had become a murderer 
and a thief. As he passed a sumptuous cafe bril- 
liantly lighted he looked at his hands — not a drop 
of blood, not one evidence of crime. 

The unfortunate child and man had suffered so 
cruelly that his crime seemed a deliverance. Real- 
izing that he had money and was safe, he heaved a 
deep and horrible sigh of relief. 


CHAPTER XV 


THE father's awakening 

The day after Soldmayer was murdered M. Chris- 
tian Lescuyer, Attorney General to the Court of 
Paris, spent the afternoon writing in his large office, 
two of whose high windows opened on the Place 
Royale. 

He had scarcely reached the half century mark, 
but he had the appearance of a very old man, and 
more than ever showed a striking resemblance to his 
deceased father. Literally surrounded by old musty 
books, he bent over a table littered with legal papers 
and wrote attentively. His bushy gray eyebrows, 
the unmistakable Lescuyer stamp, were contracted 
and his forehead was wrinkled. 

Monsieur Lescuyer had had a very successful 
career, but nevertheless he was a most unhappy man. 

His wife had died in the first years of their mar- 
riage and for twenty years he had watched his only 
child, a weak daughter, suffer the lingering death of 


THE GUILTY MAN 


223 


consumption. Just about a year had gone by since 
he lost her. 

Work only, unceasing devotion to his calling, had 
filled his dull existence. He had devoted his best 
efforts to an exhaustive work on penal law and after 
the publication of the first five volumes was acknowl- 
edged an authority among jurisconsults. He had 
been a member of the bar in Paris for the last few 
years and had earned a splendid reputation for his 
profound knowledge and simple eloquence. The 
esteem of his superiors and colleagues would have 
made it possible for him to reach the highest posi- 
tion of the judicial magistracy, but he allowed others 
to out-distance him because he had no one with 
whom to share his success. This austere man whose 
habits and character were irreproachable cared for 
nothing and wished for no other diversion than his 
work. He looked with disdain and weariness upon 
every other interest as unworthy of effort and de- 
sire. 

Since his daughter’s death Monsieur Lescuyer had 
plunged himself the more deeply into his work and 
solitude, and although the judicial vacation had com- 
menced he remained in Paris during the excessive 


224 


THE GUILTY MAN 


heat and storms of August, writing night and day or 
consulting authorities for material to be used in the 
sixth volume of his great work. 

This man had begun life with a great sin on his 
conscience which he had never forgotten. If he were 
not a prey to absolute remorse the frequent sad 
recollection of his action often tortured him. He 
could not silence the small still inner voice by re- 
peating that he had suffered much and fully expiated 
his cruel treatment of Perrinette and their child. 

Whenever he was particularly repentant he 
searched the old laws with a vague hope of obtain- 
ing some self-justification in its pages; but he could 
find none, — proof conclusive that a court of justice 
is a necessity and that society gives it the power to 
punish not only as a legal privilege but as an im- 
perative duty. 

Despite Lescuyer’s devotion to his work the ex- 
hausting heat and humidity of the atmosphere un- 
fitted him to continue. 

“Enough for to-day,” he said, pushing aside the 
in-quarto volume of the Customs of the Cotentin,* 
from which he had been copying a sentence. “I am 

^Formerly a part of lower Normandy. 


THE GUILTY MAN 


225 


suffocating. I must go out and get a breath of air.” 

He went to the window and looked out at the dull 
scene : the clouded sky and the Place Royale, where 
he saw a tower of decaying greatness with its faded 
yellow fagade and a massive statue of Louis XIII. 

“Pm going out,” he said aloud, “I am so lonesome 
— what a life!” 

He went into the street and walked along slowly 
without any fixed purpose. 

The statute, familiar though it was, suddenly 
suggested to him Donadieu, his old school-fellow, 
the only intimate friend he had ever known. 

“I haven’t seen him in several months,” he mused. 
“What a misanthrope I have become.” 

Although the sculptor had become quite famous 
and had won the medal of honor, the rosette and the 
green suit, “toute la sacree boutique” as he gaily ex- 
pressed it, he was not rich. However, he had a 
constant supply of commissions and lived in com- 
parative comfort. Devoted to the left bank of the 
river he had taken a house on the Rue Notre-Dame- 
des-Champs, that had a large studio and a garden 
the size of a handkerchief. 

“Nothing thrives there but sunflowers, as in the 


226 


THE GUILTY MAN 


switchman’s garden In the middle of the Gare St. 
Lazare,” said Donadleu, who had lost none of his 
spontaneous fun although his hair had turned white. 
“When I sit out there In the evening smoking my 
pipe, It Is a shock to think that these flowers 
will spread so rapidly that they will stop up the 
harbor.” 

Helolse would laugh at his pleasantry as she had 
done In the old days. She was now an Immense 
woman, jollier If possible than ever. She had her 
diamond earrings and a diamond brooch, which 
she wore once a year when she dined at the home 
of the Secretary of the Institute. Despite her hus- 
band’s success she remained simple and good- 
hearted, never hesitating to talk with his models, 
always giving them the well-meant motherly ad- 
vice to follow her example of remaining true to 
their lovers. 

Christian Lescuyer had to go through the Luxem- 
bourg Gardens and the Latin Quarter to reach Dona- 
dleu’s house. He usually avoided these sections 
which reminded him so forcibly of his youth, but 
to-day In his haste to see his friends he took the 
shortest route. 


THE GUILTY MAN 


227 


As he crossed the Avenue de FObservatoire he 
noticed a stout woman pushing a baby carriage com- 
ing toward him. Her almost careless and unfash- 
ionable attire gave him the impression that she did 
not live in that aristocratic neighborhood. As she 
came nearer he recognized that it was Heloise, Ma- 
dame Donadieu. 

“Ah! it is you, my dear friend,’’ she said pleas- 
antly as she shook hands with Christian Lescuyer. 
“Come home with me now, ‘le pere Dieu’ is so dis- 
appointed because you have not been over in a long 
time.” 

“Is he well?” asked Lescuyer. 

“Yes, and you will see him directly,” she an- 
swered; “he is taking a walk on the other side of 
the river and said he would meet me here. You’ll 
dine with us, of course. I have a fine melon for 
to-night.” 

Lescuyer accepted the invitation, at the same time 
looking at the large baby who slept soundly in its 
wicker carriage. 

“Oh 1 I forgot,” said Heloise, “you haven’t met 
‘I’Ogre’ yet.” 


228 


THE GUILTY MAN 


“L’Ogre?’’ repeated the lawyer In a surprised 
tone. 

“Yes, that’s our name for him on account of his 
enormous appetite. He is a foundling, whom we 
adopted six months ago. You know how badly the 
‘pere Dieu’ and I felt because we have no children. 
That was why we were so fond of pets. Do you 
remember our poor Bonnet a poils? After he died 
we had all kinds of birds and dogs that we loved 
like children, and we still have some, of course. 
Three years ago in our little place at Montfort 
I’Amaury, my husband bought me a donkey and a 
cart, but I got so stout from lack of exercise that 
I made him sell it. I said to him: 

“Petit Dieu, I know, you; in a fortnight that don- 
key will be in the house and you’ll have him sleep- 
ing with you.” Then he said as he always does, 

“I love animals — but they aren’t children.” 

“Ma foi,” I answered, “why don’t we adopt 
one?” 

“So one fine day we went to the ‘Enfants Trou- 
ves,’ where there were so many lovely little ones 
that it was hard to choose. Frangois signed a lot of 
papers and we took I’Ogre.” 


THE GUILTY MAN 


229 


She told the story very simply and her kindly 
eyes lit up as she looked from Lescuyer to the sleep- 
ing child. 

“What good people you are, Donadieu and you,” 
said Lescuyer, as a cruel reminder of Perrinette and 
his own child gnawed at his heart. 

“What did they tell you about the child?” he 
asked. 

Helolse answered: 

“Sex — masculine. 

“Age — twenty-one months. 

“Weaned. 

“That’s all— they hand over the child and the par- 
ticulars as though he were a pound of butter bought 
at a grocer’s. But really it was an excellent idea of 
mine— le pere DIeu’ adores him — ^poor little fellow. 
Is it possible that he could have had such unnatural 
parents ? ” 

But Heloise stopped short in the midst of her re- 
flection and added In a low tone : 

“I take that back, one must not criticize other peo- 
ple; perhaps misery drove them to it.” 

Christian Lescuyer, thinking of his own past, felt 


230 


THE GUILTY MAN 


a blush of shame suffuse his cheeks. He was aroused 
by hearing Heloise exclaim: 

“Look, here comes ‘le pere Dieu’.” 

Donadieu’s hair and moustache were prematurely 
white, but his face was still youthful and sanguine. 
He was alert and robust and walked briskly toward 
them. On the lapel of his loose blue jacket was the 
red rosette of honor. 

“Hello there, you neglectful friend,” he said 
shaking Lescuyer’s hand enthusiastically. “Of course 
you’ll have dinner with us — and I’m glad you came 
to-day for we leave for the country to-morrow to 
spend the fall there. I am glad to see you, mon petit 
Christian T 

Le “petit Christian” was a distinguished legal 
light, an old man in deep mourning whose sad facial 
expression gave evidence of his life. But Donadieu 
always called him “petit Christian,” since he had 
formed the habit in their school-day intimacy. 

“Has Heloise introduced I’Ogre to you?” asked 
the artist as he looked tenderly at the sleeping child. 

“Yes, I know all about him; it is just like both 
of you to adopt a homeless child.” 

“Bah,” said Donadieu, disclaiming credit for his 


THE GUILTY MAN 


231 


goodness, “we have our reward. The four-footed 
animals weren’t enough for us; we wanted a biped 
that could talk, and we found one. That little imp 
can run about, and to make him say ^papa’ or ‘pipi’ 
you don’t have to touch a spring inside of him, like 
those in the automatons. 

“But — I’m hungry — let’s go home and stir up the 
cook a bit, la mere,” he said turning to Heloise. 
“It’ll soon be seven o’clock and you must go down 
into the cellar to get a bottle of our best wine for 
Christian. You go on ahead; I’ll wheel the young 
gentleman.” 

“And I’ll buy a cake,” said Heloise as she went 
down the Rue Michelet. 

They followed her very slowly. As Donadieu 
pushed the carriage he suddenly remembered his 
friend’s recent mourning, and felt a natural delicacy. 

“My poor Christian,” he said, “I’m so stupid: 
with my delight at playing father, I forgot your sor- 
row — forgive me.” 

“Certainly,” said Lescuyer, hiding his emotion. 

When they reached Donadieu’s house supper was 
ready, but before they sat down the little “Ogre” 
had to have his evening meal and be put to bed. 


232 


THE GUILTY MAN 


They sat at the table while the nurse fed him, 
his foster parents watching with delight. He was 
really a lovely child, full of life and energy. 

“The childhood of Gargantua,” said Lescuyer 
smilingly. 

“And you will see when he is undressed,” said the 
sculptor; “he has a fine chest — Fve made a little 
statue of him.” 

Then when the child had been put to sleep the 
three friends sat down to their meal. Heloise, who 
as an old grisette took a keen interest in the doings 
of the Quartier and Montmartre and read only the 
articles concerning those districts, turned to Lescuyer 
and said: 

“Monsieur le Juge, what did you think of the 
latest crime in the Rue Cadet?” 

The attorney general had not heard a word of it. 
Heloise was astonished. 

“What,” she said incredulously, “you are surely 
interested in murders. A frightful crime has been 
committed. A dealer in second hand clothing was 
killed in his shop at seven o’clock last night. His 
place is in the heart of Paris and the street was full 
of people. He was murdered with a pistol, too, and 


THE GUILTY MAN 


233 


no one heard the shot. The assassin walked away 
quietly with the stolen money. It is enough to 
make one’s hair stand on end — that’s all one heard 
this morning in the shops. Haven’t you seen the 
Tetit Journal’?” 

“Heloise is right,” said Donadieu jestingly to 
Christian. “What does interest you, if you do not 
read the latest sensational murder — the work of 
the men through whom you make your living?” 

Then Heloise told with all its graphic details 
what she had read of the crime. Of course the 
dealer was not a very interesting victim, being mere- 
ly a receiver of stolen goods who lost his life no 
doubt in driving one of his hard bargains. That 
which amazed the public, however, was the bold- 
ness and recklessness of the criminal. 

“Bah!” said Lescuyer, “I suppose he will not go 
very far before he is arrested, if the conditions are 
as you say. I know the type of man he is, no doubt 
a cheval de retour whose movements are watched 
by the police. He will spend his money openly and 
thus cause his own arrest. I haven’t a doubt that 
he’s in a cell at this very minute.” 

“So much the better,” said Heloise, “then he’ll be 


234 


THE GUILTY MAN 


hanged. With such scoundrels at large one is afraid 
to sleep.” 

Donadieu, who did not believe in capital punish- 
ment, now volunteered his opinion. 

“Don’t say such things, dear,” he said to Heloise; 
“I approve of exiling such criminals to any part of 
the world, but as for the guillotine — ah, my dear girl, 
it’s easily known that you have never seen that in- 
strument of torture.” 

In graphic terms the artist explained how he and 
some friends once went to the “Place de la Ro- 
quette” one morning to see an execution. 

It was in the summer time and the sky was cloud- 
less. The dawn was breaking, but the morning star 
had not yet disappeared. The onlookers constituted 
a motley dissolute crowd, whose songs, screams and 
whistling were horrible. The scene was altogether 
revolting. The scaffold was set, a sort of “game 
from Siam” with a large opening in which the crim- 
inal’s head was plkced. And the hangman? A 
coarse degenerate type of the lowest order. When 
the command, “Portez armes,” was given and the 
convict appeared — oh God! it was terrible — never 
to be forgotten. The whole world, the judiciary. 


THE GUILTY MAN 


235 


the army, the crowd of onlookers, every one banded 
against that one unfortunate man. The entire hu- 
man family against one atom! Why? It was too 
frightful, too dastardly! 

“The crime had to be punished,” said Christian 
Lescuyer in his cold hard voice. “There is a duty 
to society that must be observed.” 

But the sculptor, whose tenderness outweighed his 
sense of justice, would not be convinced. He pro- 
tested and argued so earnestly that his pipe went out 
three times. Capital punishment is a relic of bar- 
barism, was his unshaken contention. The laws 
although they were deficient and inconsistent at best, 
reached their height of pitilessness in this connection. 

“A man is judged for one act which was probably 
prompted by the impulse of a moment, not by his 
whole life’s work,” asserted Donadieu, “and there 
are so many other crimes of everyday occurrence 
of which the Code takes no account.” 

“See here,” he added vehemently, “that thought 
absolutely tortured me when Heloise and I went to 
the foundling asylum to adopt a child. These ‘en- 
fants de I’amour’ whom one sees there are for the 
most part far from beautiful with their hideous skin 


236 


THE GUILTY MAN 


diseases and scars. Many of them have water on 
the brain, poor little victims of a mighty law. We 
didn’t find our darling little ‘Ogre’ directly, I assure 
you. And then, even if they are not defective, what 
a miserable heritage is theirs 1 And what a future ! 
What is their fate after they leave the Infants’ 
Home? Misery. — If I were to hear that the mur- 
derer of last night is one of these unfortunate beings 
and I were to serve on the jury, how I should plead 
extenuating circumstances. 

“And do you know to whom I attribute most 
blame in such a case?” he cried. “To the father, 
the scoundrel who abandoned the mother of their 
unborn child. It is invariably the same story. 

“Now, Monsieur Magistrat, search your Code 
from beginning to end — what do you find about 
paternity of this sort? Not a word! Tell me, do 
you believe that this is justice — does that father de- 
serve to go unpunished?” 

Christian Lescuyer, ghastly, with his eyes lowered, 
one hand lying nervously on the tablecloth, the other 
mechanically twirling a small wine glass, listened 
to the denunciation by the warm-hearted Donadieu, 
— words which were absolutely crucifying to him. 


THE GUILTY MAN 


237 


Then the conversation was changed to a more 
lively topic and Lescuyer’s unhappy recollections 
were forced into subconsciousness. Donadieu told 
of how he had spent the day. He had visited an old 
student friend who was making a fortune in the 
last few years as a portrait painter. The honest 
sculptor was incapable of envy; however, he could 
not help contrasting his long difficult career with the 
good luck of his friend, who had made so great a 
success despite mediocre ability. 

“Now, you cannot imagine the luxury in which he 
lives,” said Donadieu. “There is a lackey in gor- 
geous attire to open the door, who took my card on 
a silver salver. And the staircase! Entirely of 
carved oak — really magnificent. There is only one 
other like it — at Ambigu. 

“I found my friend Verdal painting a black water 
spaniel with a silver collar — as a distinctive touch in 
the portrait of the handsome Madame L’Equateur, 
whose husband was the president of a corporation 
for five and a half hours, just long enough to ab- 
scond with the funds. In order to bribe the little 
beast to sit still, the servant who had brought him 


238 


THE GUILTY MAN 


there gave him a little piece of sugar every other 
minute. 

‘‘Verdal was very courteous to me because I am a 
member of the Institute where he hopes to win a 
place some day. Yes, he was very agreeable, but did 
not stop his work all the time I was there. Bah! he 
painted all morning with about as much inspiration 
as though he were knitting a stocking. He’ll get 
ten thousand ‘balles’ for that — why, he’s growing 
richer than a hog dealer! They say that he doesn’t 
take time to use his handkerchief until after sun- 
set, for every time he puts down his palette he loses 
twenty francs. His latest cold in the head cost 
him a cool three thousand ! 


CHAPTER XVI 


THE TORTURE OF UNCERTAINTY. 

At about eleven o’clock Christian Lescuyer left the 
Donadieus in a very good humor. Frangois’ descrip- 
tion of his artist friend had amused him greatly. 
The atmosphere was clear; it was one of those nights 
in which every star in the firmament is shining — a 
balmy night when the brilliantly lighted cafes are 
filled with people and the shopkeepers sit outdoors 
enjoying the cool breeze after an exhausting day’s 
work. 

The magistrate walked slowly toward the Place 
Royale. He was so wrapt in thought of the pleasant 
evening he had spent that he did not pay any atten- 
tion to the interesting phases of life about him. He 
was really in a happier frame of mind than he had 
known for a long time. 

Lescuyer soon reached his hotel, and as he entered 
his room (where his valet had left a lamp burning 
on account of his habit of reading late into the night) 
he realized how pleasant his mood was. 


240 


THE GUILTY MAN 


“I am glad I went out,” he said. “I must go to 
see the Donadieus very often In the future. I know 
I can work an hour or two with greater Interest be- 
fore I go to bed because IVe had a little diversion.” 
However, before setting to work he picked up a copy 
of le Temps, which his man had placed on the vol- 
ume of the “Coutumes du Contentin.” He looked 
over it curiously. 

Suddenly this headline caught his eye : 

*Ee Crime de la rue Cadet. Arrestation de 
V as s as sin. 

“Oh yes,” he thought with a smile, “that’s the 
affair that aroused Heloise to such a pitch. They 
have found the culprit — so much the better. There’ll 
be great excitement at the markets to-morrow morn- 
ing.” 

With much Interest he began to read. 

“The people of Paris,” said the paper, “who have 
been so wrought up about the murder of Isaac Sold- 
mayer, second-hand dealer of the Rue Cadet, will be 
glad to learn that his assailant was arrested to-day, 
less than twenty-four hours after the crime was com- 
mitted. 

“Our readers will recall that a pawn ticket of the 


THE GUILTY MAN 


241 


Mont de Piete, so blood soaked that the writing was 
almost illegible, was found near the victim’s body. 
This was an invaluable clue for the police, who im- 
mediately began their search for the person whose 
name was on the check, and who — without a doubt — 
is the culprit. 

“The man’s name is Christian Forgeat.” 

Christian Lescuyer stopped reading and stared 
at the name. 

“Christian Forgeat! Forgeat? that was Perrin- 
ette’s name — and she wrote to me that she called 
her child Christian, Christian Forgeat! Ah! how 
well I know that name. How often I have repeated 
and written it, when I tried to find the boy and his 
mother. Christian is an odd name and that it should 
be connected with Forgeat is not a chance occurrence. 
There is no doubt about it, that is Perrinette’s boy — 
and mine. Merciful God! — and this is how I find 
my son — a murderer and a thief. It is frightful !” 

The man’s tortured brain imaged the name that 
he had said over and over again, written in blood 
on a paper found near a murdered man, conclusive 
evidence that he had committed this frightful crime. 


242 


THE GUILTY MAN 


Unconsciously Lescuyer took up the paper and 
finished the account. 

“We must admit the cleverness and promptness 
of the Police Department. Inspector Bosse recog- 
nized Christian Forgeat at once. He is a man of 
about twenty-five years of age, a released pupil of 
the Colonie Agricole du Plateau, where his daily 
companions were scoundrels like himself. Many of 
them are now serving long terms. Suspicions were 
strengthened by the fact that although his record is 
still clear, he holds no permanent position, has no 
dependable way of earning a living, and up to the 
present time his only work has been that of a ped- 
dler or a supe in a cheap theatre. 

“On the supposition that Forgeat was the culprit, 
it is an easy matter to imagine the scene of the mur- 
der. Forgeat went to Soldmayer, no doubt, to sell 
him the pawn ticket, and killed him as the dealer 
opened his strong box. In his haste to get away 
after his audacious crime, committed in an open, 
lighted shop, the murderer forgot to take his pistol 
and the pawn ticket. 

“Detectives went directly to the dingy boarding- 
house on the Boulevard Rochechouart where Chris- 


THE GUILTY MAN 


243 


tian Forgeat lives, but the lodger had not been 
there. Fortunately for Inspector Bosse he had an 
exact description of the fugitive whose most distin- 
guishing characteristic is a noticeable lameness of the 
left foot. It is due to this that Detective Melon 
(whose success is well known) was able to recognize 
and arrest Forgeat at the Gare du Nord, where he 
was awaiting the train for Brussels. 

“The murderer did not resist the authorities but 
confessed his crime. He denied premeditation, how- 
ever, and asserted what seems most improbable, that 
he had entered Soldmayer’s unarmed, and that at 
the sight of the revolver near the strong box, he 
had conceived the idea of murdering the second- 
hand dealer. 

“Christian Forgeat has been incarcerated since 
two o’clock.” 

Christian Lescuyer not only imagined the crime 
in all its details, but from his knowledge of psychol- 
ogy realized its causes. In his long career as judge, 
he had often condemned such miserable wretches, 
but his own sin against Perrinette had not oc- 
curred to him in that connection. He had never real- 
ized before that the child whom he had abandoned 


244 


THE GUILTY MAN 


might have shared the same fate as these other 
pariahs. 

In imagination he beheld seated before him all 
those whom he had condemned. He saw their round 
backs and lowered heads toward which he had 
pointed with judicial gesture, in charging the jury- 
in whose hands lay their fate. He saw them shud- 
der at his hard words as he demanded all the sever- 
ity of the law against them. How many had he 
sent to prison and the penitentiary! And upon 
one poor wretch found guilty of murder and theft 
he had pronounced death! 

All this he had done without a moment’s hesi- 
tation, without a scruple. The fact that he was 
carrying out the law prevented any qualm of con- 
science. The lawyers for the defense always pleaded 
the same cause — no home influence, no moral train- 
ing. In his reply he as attorney general, a pitiless 
orator, had warned the jury not to be guided by such 
misapplied sympathy, to confine themselves to the 
issue — ^Was the prisoner guilty, yes or no? He 
had urged them to punish him in the interest of so- 
ciety whose inalienable right it was to be defended 
and avenged. 


THE GUILTY MAN 


245 


“No,’’ he cried aloud, “it is impossible — it is too, 
too horrible — I cannot be the father of this mur- 
derer!” 

The old magistrate, whose life had been blameless 
but for that one stain, tried to recall all the reasons 
which he thought had justified the young student in 
abandoning Perrinette. 

But mature experience and knowledge of life 
would not accept the excuses which youth had made, 
and the man was overwhelmed by a gnawing re- 
morse, more poignant than ever, and was overcome 
by a shame and a loathing for himself. 

On the verge of nervous collapse, Christian Les- 
cuyer paced up and down the room. Twenty times 
he had taken up and thrown down that frightful 
paper, twenty times he had read and reread the ac- 
count of the arrest in which the name “Christian 
Forgeat” seemed to stand out in raised letters. 
In his distress and bewilderment, completely 
stupefied by the horror and lost in his thoughts and 
recollections, he did not realize it was after two 
o’clock. He sat down at his table and fell into a 
troubled sleep. An awful dream tortured his aching 
mind. 


246 


THE GUILTY MAN 


It was the Place de la Roquette on the morning 
of an execution. He was there in the motley crowd, 
in the first row behind the soldiers. Near him was 
the guillotine with its large round opening, and at a 
little distance he saw the prison door closed. Dona- 
dieu’s description came back to him — “All against 
one.” The silence was oppressive. 

Very slowly the prison door opened. He could 
not see the face of the condemned man because 
the priest who walked with him covered the man’s 
eyes to shut out the view of the gallows. But Chris- 
tian Lescuyer imagined vividly the intense anguish 
on that hidden face and his heart began to palpitate. 
He had a presentiment that when he should see the 
man’s face exposed to view the sight would be in- 
tolerable. He did not wish to look, but morbid 
curiosity forced him to open his eyes, to know the 
truth. 

The head of the wretch was in the “trou” but 
the knife had not fallen. In one moment Christian 
Lescuyer realized that this young man resembled 
him, as a son bears the likeness of his father; that 
the face before him was like his own at the same 
age, and that the dark eyes, which gleamed under 


THE GUILTY MAN 


247 


their heavy black brows were fixed upon him with 
a look of recognition and intense hatred. 

Christian Lescuyer was awakened by his own out- 
cry. The name, Christian Forgeat, on the news- 
paper at his elbow was outlined in letters of fire. 

The reality was unfortunately as frightful as the 
nightmare. 


CHAPTER XVII 


RECOGNITION. 

The attorney general started very early for the 
Court House, ostensibly to consult some authorities 
for his literary work, and when he entered the hall 
all the attendants were visibly impressed and defer- 
ential to the well-known Monsieur Lescuyer. As he 
passed the cells reserved for the worst criminals, he 
turned to the Superintendent and asked: 

“What is the latest report about the man who 
murdwred Soldmayer?” 

“You mean Forgeat?” was the reply. “He is 
here, monsieur, in Number 4. To-morrow or the 
day after he will be sent to Mazas.” 

“And — what is his attitude?” 

“He’s completely crushed. I don’t think he^ll 
trouble the judge who tries his case. He’s been 
there since yesterday under strict guard, but he hasn’t 
said a word nor eaten a morsel. Would you care to 
see him, monsieur?” asked the Superintendent, mo- 
tioning to the turnkey, who followed him. 


THE GUILTY MAN 


249 


The jailer hurried to open Number 4 but the 
attorney stopped him. 

“It Is not necessary,” he said, “I shall look at him 
through the trou du judas 

This very small peep-hole widened Into the shape 
of a funnel through the thickness of the wooden 
door, so that the curious visitors could see the In- 
terior of the cell without the occupant’s suspecting 
that he was being watched. 

Monsieur Lescuyer looked through the opening 
and at the first glance his doubts were cruelly set- 
tled. The prisoner bore a striking resemblance to 
him — the culprit was Indeed his son. 

Christian Forgeat was seated near a table at 
which two other men clad In jailer’s attire were 
playing a game of cards. He sat staring vacantly 
Into space, his back to the guards and his full face 
turned toward the eye which gazed fixedly at him 
through the aperture. 

Christian Lescuyer felt all the physical effects of 
suppressed emotion: the Intense heart palpitation 
and cold perspiration and a chill, which seemed to 
freeze the blood In his veins. He recognized un- 

*Peep-hole or bars. 


250 


THE GUILTY MAN 


mistakably the distinguishing features of his family: 
the dark complexion and the deep set sunken eyes 
under their thick heavy brows. There was no pos- 
sibility of a doubt: the prisoner was unquestionably 
a Lescuyer. 

The attorney general was overpowered by an irre- 
sistible fascination to keep his eyes riveted on the 
prisoner. He seemed to see himself again at the 
same age, the age when he had loved Perrinette. 

After a seemingly interminable minute he remem- 
bered who and where he was and that he must tear 
himself away from that overwhelming sight. It 
required a conscious effort for him to tell the Super- 
intendent that he wished to go further, and he knew 
that his voice shook. Fortunately for him all the 
alleys of the jail were very dark and in consequence 
his pallor and his agitated manner would pass unob- 
served. 

Mechanically he went to his office in the Palais de 
Justice to gain control of himself. 

“I must be calm and consider this dreadful calam- 
ity in all its aspects,” was his only thought. 

What chance had the criminal to escape capital 
punishment? Almost none. Murder, followed by 


THE GUILTY MAN 


251 


theft, pointed conclusively to premeditation. Be- 
cause the crime had been committed in an open shop, 
in the heart of Paris, almost before the eyes of 
passers-by, it had caused a sensation which would 
gain intensity at the time of the trial. Public opin- 
ion would certainly be against the criminal. Jurors, 
who are often lenient in their verdict of a murder 
actuated by a sudden passion, are always merciless 
when the motive is theft. 

Christian Forgeat (Christian Lescuyer trembled 
at the name), Christian Forgeat could not escape 
the gallows. 

In vain the attorney general tried to reassure him- 
self, to persuade himself, that the death penalty 
seldom was pronounced, and when it was, that the 
Chief of State, mercifully using his prerogative, 
often issued a commutation of sentence, so that 
blood was seldom spilled in the Place Roquette. But 
again and again Christian Lescuyer could arrive at 
only one conclusion. The evidence in the case of 
Christian Forgeat was incontestable: premeditated 
murder, followed by theft — death on the gallows 
could be the only result. 

Then he thought of another criminal, one that 


252 


THE GUILTY MAN 


had been brought before him, who, though guilty 
as Forgeat, had escaped the death penalty. What 
circumstances had brought this about? The ab- 
solute repentance of the man, very sincere or else 
cleverly assumed, by which the sympathy of the 
spectators had been aroused; the testimony of a 
witness which caused still greater compassion — and 
a magnificent plea. 

Monsieur Lescuyer, because of many a contest of 
eloquence and logic in his long career was ac- 
quainted with all the brilliant legal lights of Paris, 
and determined to select the very best for the de- 
fense of his son. 

The crime of the Rue Cadet was an interesting 
one, whose defense could be ably pleaded by Mon- 
sieur Pechaud. The compelling manner and fiery 
eloquence of this orator, whose appeal to his lis- 
teners was wont to stir them to the depths, and 
whose sympathy was sincere, when the pathetic side 
of a case aroused his finer sensibilities, marked him 
as the man to save Christian Forgeat. He had been 
known to speak for three or four consecutive hours, 
and then to stop abruptly when, seeing tears in 
the jurors’ eyes, he knew he had enlisted their sym- 


THE GUILTY MAN 


253 


pathy. Besides, he was a good friend of Christian 
Lescuyer. 

“Yes, old Pechaud was the only man for this 
case. In his long and glorious career he had lost 
but two cases and he would succeed in this almost 
hopeless affair, in finding some extenuating circum- 
stances. 

“Yes — but what might these be? Was there any- 
thing that could be said to lessen the horror of this 
crime? It was impossible to imagine the slightest 
extenuation. Such a case was the delight of Tant- 
Pis, State Attorney, who after twenty years’ expe- 
rience, was well versed in the practices of the prose- 
cution. But old Pechaud was a match for him. 

“Yet, it is simple, in fact easily possible to pleaH 
for this boy,” Christian Lescuyer thought with in- 
creasing relief. “He was an illegitimate child, 
abandoned from the day of his birth — alas, alas, by 
whom? A child’s conscience perverted by the prac- 
tices at the school of correction . . . .” 

Then he thought of the innumerable times that 
he had disdainfully rejected a similar plea made by 
the defense, and a feeling of the inevitable irony of 
fate seized hold of him as with painful acuteness 


254 


THE GUILTY MAN 


he realized that his entire career had been based on 
a sin and carried out as a lie. 

And again he saw in his mind’s eye all the crim- 
inals (their shoulders bowed by fear and shame) 
whom he had crushed by his avenging eloquence as 
he had sent them to prison or to the scaffold. For 
all these miserable creatures he had had only words 
of anger and condemnation. And he had thought 
that he was fulfilling a superior function, perform- 
ing a splendid useful duty! 

And now it was his own son (yes, he was sure 
he was the father of Christian Forgeat) — his own 
son who sat on that same bench of infamy and on 
whose public execution he might be called upon to 
insist! This son had become a thief and a mur- 
derer, but after what kind of a life of suffering had 
he finally succumbed to temptation? And who had 
exposed him to such conditions? None other than 
the self-interested coward who had left a poor girl, 
and who, as one throws a new-born puppy into the 
sewer, had consigned his child to all the influences 
of misery. 

Austere judge and implacable magistrate, put on 
your scarlet gown with its ermine border and your 


THE GUILTY MAN 


255 


cap ornamented with gold! Duty calls! Brandish 
the sword of the Law — discharge all the thunder- 
bolts on that guilty head! To sacrifice your son, you 
have not the virtue of Brutus, but the angel of Jus- 
tice guides your arm, you modern Abraham. The 
approval of the public and the social code demand 
that you be a hypocrite and a monster, that you con- 
demn your own son to death! He owes his exist- 
ence to you — but that does not change the order of 
things. It is your inevitable duty, your frightful 
function to destroy the existence you have created. 
Make the best possible use of your eloquence — 
thrill the bourgeois jury with your graphic descrip- 
tion of the hideous crime. Condemn the prisoner 
with all show of judicial dignity — send him to the 
scaffold ! It is only your own conscience which will 
know which one — you or he — is the guilty man! 

After a day of reflection every minute of Chris- 
tian Lescuyer’s life was poisoned by these torturing 
accusing thoughts. They filled his waking and his 
sleeping hours with constant nightmare. One fact 
obsessed the man’s mind — a realization of his own 
responsibility in the outcome of the life of Christian 
Forgeat. 


256 


THE GUILTY MAN 


The Judge ordered Christian Lescuyer, the attor- 
ney general, to prepare the case of the Rue Cadet 
tfor trial. It was thus that he learned the whole 
pitiful story of Christian Forgeat, of the death of 
Perrinette and the boy’s commitment to the Colonie 
du Plateau, his release and four years of life in 
Paris. More and more, as he thought of the fate 
of his unfortunate son, was Christian Lescuyer con- 
vinced that he was the guilty man. 

The sensation which this tragic case had oc- 
casioned was increased as the time for the trial 
approached. It was without doubt a “cause fa- 
meuse,” and so it was not to be wondered at that 
Monsieur Lescuyer took so deep an interest in it. 

The prisoner denied any preconceived plan of 
murder or theft — although the finding of the pawn 
ticket near the victim’s body was incontestable evi- 
dence of it, persisting, despite all appearance to 
the contrary, that the sight of the pistol had ac- 
tuated him. 

The State tried in vain to use all its clever traps, 
to submit him to every chance to contradict himself; 
but he was unshaken in his own defence in asserting 
that he had no previous motive. He did not expect 


THE GUILTY MAN 


257 


to convince his hearers, being completely dis- 
couraged and resigned to what he felt was inevi- 
table — his death sentence. 

“I repeat what I have said,” he replied to the 
Judge who asked him the same questions in different 
language. “I went there to sell my pawn ticket, and 
I had no idea of killing Soldmayer until he opened 
the strong-box. Then I saw the revolver next to the 
portfolio filled with bank notes. Oh! I know you 
do not believe me, and none of the spectators believe 
me and I shall probably be hanged. I want to die,. 
I have had enough of life, and there’s nothing in it 
— but I cannot say that I am worse than I am, and 
I have told you the whole story as it was, because 
that is the truth.” 

The Judge, M. Courtemer, who loved his pro- 
fession and was a reasonable man, admired the per- 
sistency of the criminal and was inclined to believe 
in his sincerity. 

One morning he met Christian Lescuyer in one of 
the halls of the Palais du Justice. He spoke at once 
of Christian Forgeat. 

“Since that affair interests you so keenly. Mon- 
sieur I’avocat general,” he said, ‘T must tell you that 


258 


THE GUILTY MAN 


I am at my wits’ end — and the man is still firm in the 
same story. In two or three days I am going to con- 
clude preliminary proceedings and send the indict- 
ment to the Supreme Court. I anticipate that he 
will still insist that he committed the murder on the 
impulse of the moment. It is hardly possible. If 
he has deceived me, he is very clever and feigns sin- 
cerity to an amazing degree — I admit that frankly. 

“I am disposed to believe him; and there is an- 
other fact of evidence which I heard only yesterday 
that impresses me very favorably.” 

“And what was that, my dear colleague,” asked 
Lescuyer, who listened eagerly to the old judge’s 
every word. 

“It is the evidence of an unfortunate woman with 
whom Forgeat spent an hour on the evening follow- 
ing his crime. She came of her own accord to tes- 
tify in his favor. Of course, it relates only to the 
morality of Forgeat and has nothing to do with the 
matter in question, but it is a convincing proof that 
this criminal has a better side and that he still has 
a fragment of a heart. Come into my office, I want 
you to read that testimony; you will find it very in- 
teresting and strange, I am sure.” 


THE GUILTY MAN 


259 


The two men went up the stairs and while Mon- 
sieur Courtemer was talking to his clerk, giving him 
instruction in a low voice, Monsieur Lescuyer was 
seated at a table covered with the papers of the 
Forgeat case, and intently reading the testimony of 
the latest witness. 

“You are right, my friend,” said the attorney 
general to the judge, “this young man has good 
instincts. — But I will leave you to your duties. 
Adieu.” 

After shaking hands with his colleague. Mon- 
sieur Lescuyer left him quickly in order that the 
emotion which stirred him so deeply should pass 
unnoticed. As soon as he entered the corridor he 
wrote a name and address in his memorandum book 
— Louise Rameau, 22 Rue des Vinaigriers. “I must 
see that woman at once and talk with her,” he said. 


CHAPTER XVIII 


THE UNEXPECTED TESTIMONY AND ITS RESULT. 

How long a single day seems to a man obsessed 
with one fixed idea! Night — at last the valet de 
chamhre had brought in the large lamp and placed 
it on Monsieur Lescuyer’s desk. He was in his 
apartment in the place Royale. 

“Light the candelabra on the mantelpiece also,” 
ordered the attorney general, who nervously paced 
up and down the room. 

Then he added : 

“A woman, the one to whom I sent you this after- 
noon with a note, will be here at any minute. I shall 
see her.” 

When the servant had left, Christian Lescuyer con- 
tinued his nervous walk. On either side of the room 
were rows upon rows of his favorite old books, 
which had now lost their attraction for him. In the 
centre of the room stood his desk-table, littered with 


THE GUILTY MAN 


261 


manuscript to which he had not added a line. The 
heavy bronze ink-well had not been opened since 
two months, and why? Because since the arrest of 
Christian Forgeat eight weeks earlier, Monsieur 
Christian Lescuyer, tireless worker that he was, had 
been unable to concentrate his mind on any other 
subject. He could think of nothing but the criminal 
at Mazas, whose doom would soon be sealed and 
who was — his son. 

“To save him’’ — that was his one all-absorbing 
thought. Yes, he must save him. In that way, 
Christian Lescuyer hoped to expiate, in a measure, 
his own sin of twenty-five years before which had 
blotted his whole life. 

He wished to save the unfortunate on trial for 
his life. But how, by what means? He had suc- 
ceeded in urging Pechaud to plead the defense, and 
he himself occupied the chair of the attorney gen- 
eral. If the State were kindly disposed, the punish- 
ment might be imprisonment at hard labor instead 
of death. 

But at this thought the man stood still, realizing 
the utter hopelessness of the case. 

“To prison — possibly for life — that will be a 


262 


THE GUILTY MAN 


magnificent restitution ! I shall send my own son to 
jail!” 

And again Lescuyer was overcome with the 
thought that his was the fault, his the cause. 

“I, the attorney general, respected and highly 
esteemed, am to be blamed if the boy has become 
a criminal. I, the father, without an atom of feel- 
ing, who subjected him to the forces which have 
made of him what he is ! 

“If he is sent to prison, I shall probably send him 
some pin money to buy a few delicacies and some 
tobacco. What irony ! 

“If only I could obtain his acquittal, I would de- 
vote the remainder of my life to my son and reform 
him gently. Then and then only could I ever hope 
to atone for my sin against him. But why do I tor- 
ture myself with vain expectations which I know 
are impossible 

The valet de chambre knocked at the door. 

“The woman whom monsieur is expecting is 
here.” 

“I shall see her here,” said Lescuyer. 

Two minutes later Louise Rameau entered the 
room. She was about twenty-two or twenty-three 


THE GUILTY MAN 


263 


years of age, and would have been very attractive 
were it not for her restless and sorrowful expression. 
Although it was late in the fall and the weather had 
grown very cool, she still wore her summer clothes, 
assuredly because she had no others. The dress was 
becoming to her, the hat had been pretty the pre- 
vious spring. Then she had looked, no doubt, like a 
“chic grisette,” but now her attire was old and 
faded, and only careful mending had kept it from 
falling to pieces. 

The young woman very timidly crossed the thresh- 
old of the large room. She was thoroughly fright- 
ened as she faced the man in mourning who stood 
before the mantelpiece, and who in turn looked at 
her with dark sad eyes in which tears were plainly 
visible. 

He pointed to a chair and asked her to. be seated. 
Then he drew up one close to hers for himself and 
began to speak to her in a slow embarrassed manner. 

“I asked you to come here and I thank you for 
coming — mademoiselle,’* he hesitated before that 
word. 

“Thank you for responding so promptly to my 
appeal— I am the attorney general in this ” and 


264 


THE GUILTY MAN 


again he hesitated — “Christian Forgeat case. Do 
not be afraid — I asked you to come to see me be- 
cause I wanted to hear the testimony which you 
voluntarily gave the judge. It seems to me that it 
will be to the advantage of — the unfortunate man. 
Have confidence in me and do not doubt my sym- 
pathy for you and for — the man whom you want to 
help. 

“I am not the attorney general now, I am a man^ 
whose one desire is to save Christian Forgeat not 
only from the gallows, but from a less severe pun- 
ishment. 

“Don’t be ashamed, tell me frankly of your ac- 
quaintance with him on the last night of his liberty. 
Since you pity that man so sincerely, you may be able 
to help save him.” 

As she listened to Monsieur Lescuyer, the young 
woman lowered her eyes and blushed with shame. 
She wrung her hands, which were crossed on her 
knees. Her attitude was that of intense humiliation. 
Lescuyer watched her attentively and his face lost 
its habitual severe expression, his eyes becoming soft. 
When the girl remained quiet, he said gently: — 

“Courage, my child — I know your life and how 


THE GUILTY MAN 


265 


you are to be pitied, if what you told Monsieur 
Courtemer is the truth.” 

That word of doubt was sufficient to decide the 
young woman and she began her story. 

“I swear to you, monsieur,” she said in a sweet 
trembling voice, “I swear that I told the absolute 
truth to the judge at the Palais de Justice, and I 
shall repeat to you what I told him. 

‘Tt is very humiliating to me — ^but what difference 
does that make to the poor creature that I am? 

“My name is Louise Rameau — my trade is silk 
embroidery — embroidery on silk material. It is not 
a very well paid work, for the styles change so often. 
I must tell you that since my eighteenth year I have 
lived with a medical student who was an extern at 
Lariboisiere where he took his M.D. He is the 
^ father of my little daughter, who is now almost three 
years old. She was out to board until last spring, 
when the nurse sent her to me because I could not 
pay for her any longer. 

“On Albert’s account I had left my own family, 
but we loved each other so dearly and lived — like 
husband and wife very comfortably. 

“But later, when my poor Albert was graduated 


266 


THE GUILTY MAN 


as a physician, he had spent his entire inheritance 
and had a few debts, not many, but enough to worry 
him, and was forced to leave. Advised to begin his 
practice in Picardie, where there was only one other 
doctor, an old man who would soon retire, he did 
so, but soon found that he had been deceived, for 
another doctor had reached the place before him, 
and taken all the old man’s patients. Albert came 
back to see me in Paris from time to time and I saw 
that he was terribly worried. 

“He gave me enougfi to pay the nurse for our 
little girl — and that was all he could do. He 
earned scarcely enough for himself in Picardie. But 
I went on working and we lived in the hope of better 
times. 

“Albert was so good, so honest! ‘My poor Lou- 
ise,’ he would often say, ‘as soon as the future looks 
a bit brighter and I have a few hundred francs we 
shall be married.’ 

“Then, unfortunately, a paid position was offered 
him on one of the steamers which go to South Amer- 
ica. He accepted in order to have an assured in- 
come — at most he would lose only two or three 
years. 


THE GUILTY MAN 


267 


“On the first voyage he died of yellow fever at 
Rio de Janeiro. 

“Then I was left all alone in my grief and the 
nurse sent my child to me last May, just at the 
beginning of the dull season. 

“Oh, what a frightful summer I had, watching 
my little one fade for lack of proper nourishment! 

“My friends and neighbors said to me — ‘If I 
were in your place, I would know how to make a 
good living; it would be an easy matter for a woman 
who is as attractive as you are’ — but I could not 
make up my mind to lead that sort of a life. 

“I know une femme a Paris who has only her 
poorly paid work to depend upon usually ends that 
way, but the possibility terrified me, and I preferred 
to suffer and toil and remain true to Albert’s mem- 
ory.” 

Louise Rameau stopped for a moment choked by 
suppressed emotion. As he listened to her story 
the man who sat opposite her covered his eyes with 
his hands as if to shut out the strong light which 
annoyed him. The heartrending story reminded 
him of another poor girl who too had lived alone, 


268 


THE GUILTY MAN 


and had a child to care for. He was thinking of 
Perrinette. 

vous demande pardon^ monsieur^* said Lou- 
ise Rameau, with an heroic effort at self-control, 
“pardon my boring you with my life history, but I 
do not want you to think that I am a totally de- 
praved woman.” 

Keeping his eyes covered with one hand. Mon- 
sieur Lescuyer gave the young woman a sign of 
encouragement with the other. In a pitiful voice he 
said to her: 

“Go on, my poor child — I am convinced that you 
are sincere and I am listening to you with all com- 
passion and sympathy.” 

“Time went on,” continued the girl bravely. “By 
ceaseless effort I found a little work here and there 
and I earned just enough to keep my little girl and 
myself from want. 

“About the end of August times picked up a bit 
and my old employer gave me a piece of embroidery 
to do at home. The material was very beautiful and 
was worth at least sixty francs. 

“One evening when I had almost finished the em- 
broidery and was to take it to the shop next day to 


THE GUILTY MAN 


269 


get fifteen francs for what I had done, I was quietly 
working at it when my baby, who slept near me 
in her little crib, woke up with a start and began to 
cry. In getting up quickly I pushed the table, my 
lamp upset and — the oil spilled over the silk. 

“That was a blow — now it was I, who owed the 
employer three louis and I had but twenty sous in 
my pocketbook. 

“As I rocked the little one to sleep I became furi- 
ous. Ah I it was always like that — very well then, so 
much the worse, I would earn my living as the 
others did — twenty francs — at once. 

“When my little Clemence was asleep, I dressed 
myself and went out. 

“My dress — the one I have on now — mon Dieu, 
was not so faded then, nor was my hat and I had a 
pair of gloves too. I did not look as shabby as 
I do now. 

“Very near my home, opposite the Gare de I’Est, is 
a large cafe. I had often seen women in gaudy 
clothes and feathered hats sitting there. I went 
there too. All of a sudden I was horrified, the 
women about me were screaming and swearing. 

“I was about to get up and run away when a 


270 


THE GUILTY MAN 


young man at the next table, whom I had not seen 
before, came over to me and said: ‘May I speak 
to you?’ I was so frightened I could not answer. 
‘I am not well dressed,’ he said, ‘but have no fear 
— I have a pocketful of money,’ he said. And then 
I noticed his poor clothes. 

“ ‘Shall I prove it to you?’ he continued. 

“He took a handful of money out of his pocket — 
forgive me, sir, it is a very ugly story that I am 
about to tell you — 

“I was desperate and that accident to the em- 
broidery had pushed me to the end of my rope. 
When I told the young man that I would go to his 
home with him, he said : 

“ ‘Impossible.’ 

“Then, after hesitating a moment, he said: 

“ ‘I live with my parents, can’t we go to your 
house?’ 

“To my house — O God — in my room where my 
innocent little baby lay asleep? — But misery had 
driven me mad — I had come there to offer myself 
for sale — and sell myself I would. 

“He got up and offered me his arm and I saw 
that he was lame — my place in the Rue des Vinai- 


THE GUILTY MAN 


271 


griers was only a few steps from there. We walked 
on without a word. Once he said to me : 

“ ‘We are not very talkative.’ 

“From time to time he looked at me and his deep 
black eyes and heavy brows frightened me terribly. 

“I mounted the first flight of stairs and when he 
entered my room behind me, I instinctively put my 
finger to my mouth. 

“ ‘Sh !’ I said, showing him the crib. 

“He looked at it sulkily and then said: 

“ ‘Bah — babies sleep soundly.’ He threw his hat 
on the table. 

“Then — then I realized — oh! monsieur, how 
ashamed I was — near my baby’s crib — it was impos- 
sible — altogether impossible — my heart was break- 
ing — I began to weep hysterically and asked the 
young man to leave me — to forgive me for having 
encouraged him, and begged him to go back to the 
cafe where he would find many other women much 
more attractive than I. 

“Then he, instead of being angry with me, asked 
me why I had changed so suddenly — ^why I wept so 
uncontrollably? And when he spoke kindly, despite 


272 


THE GUILTY MAN 


his sombre looks, I had confidence and told him all. 

‘‘I showed him the ruined embroidery — told him 
I had never led a depraved life and had given way 
to temptation for the first time that night only 
for my baby’s sake. 

“He listened quietly, his head lowered, his eyes 
fixed on the crib, and when I finished he put his hand 
into his pocket, pulled out a number of gold pieces, 
and throwing them on the table, said in a whisper ; 

“ ‘When I was a child — I too had a mother who 
loved me.’ 

“I was overcome — I could not believe my eyes — 
could not even say ‘Thank you.’ But when he took 
up his hat to go away I was so grateful I seized hold 
of his hand to ki^s it, but he pulled it away violently, 
hid it under his vest and cried out: 

“ ‘My hand — ^^mon Dieu — you want to kiss my 
hand — if you only knew ’ 

“He stopped short, alarmed by what he was about 
to say, looked at me for a moment — Oh! what a 
look it was, so sad, so awful — then he left. 

“That minute is as clearly stamped on my mind 
as that frightful hour of which I told you. I can 





“when I WAS A CHILD, I TOO HAD A MOTHER WHO LOVED ME,” 

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THE GUILTY MAN 


273 


still see the door violently closed and I can hear his 
limping foot-fall growing fainter and fainter.” 

While Louise Rameau told this painful dramatic 
story, Monsieur Lescuyer sat bowed down, his el- 
bows on his knees, his face buried in his hands. He 
was consumed with remorse and shame. 

This Christian Forgeat, this vagabond, this crim- 
inal had done for the woman whom he had met but 
once and for that child whom he did not know, that 
which he a rich young man from a good home, 
brought up with a sense of honor, had refused to do 
for her who had given up two of the best years of 
her life to him. This thief and murderer, who was 
his son, had shown finer sensibilities than he. 

“The next day,” continued Louise Rameau, “I 
went to pay for. the silk I had spoiled and I bought 
a few little things which the baby and I needed 
badly. I had almost two hundred francs left that 
meant a small fortune for me. How I would always 
bless that unknown young man, who had been so 
generous ! 

“But on the following day when my neighbors 
told me of the awful crime on the Rue Cadet — that 


274 


THE GUILTY MAN 


was all that was being talked about everywhere — I 
bought the Petit Journal and read a description of 
the criminal — the lame foot, the heavy dark eye- 
brows. Recalling these and remembering how he 
had pulled away his hand when I wanted to kiss 
it, I was sure that the ‘unknown generous young 
man’ was the assassin. 

“A man, miserably clad and with a pocketful of 
gold — yes, generous like a thief — there was no doubt 
in my mind. 

“That thought had an awful effect on me, as you 
can imagine. I had a horror for that money which 
he had given me. I felt that I would always have 
blood on my fingers for touching it, and without a 
moment’s thought of what I was doing, I ran to the 
nearest church — to Saint Laurent — and threw it all 
into the poor box. 

“I could think of nothing but this Forgeat. In 
my sleep I had nightmares in which I saw the whole 
crime, as I had read of it. 

“After a few days I became calm, and the recol- 
lection of that man seemed less terrible to me. He 
had pitied me. I told myself that I was unjust, and 
that he had done something which very few men 


THE GUILTY MAN 


275 


would have done. How many encouraged by a girl 
of the street (for I acted as though I were one) 
seeing her suddenly burst into tears and beg him to 
go away, would have believed her story and left 
her, when she asked him to go ? 

“He had listened to me quietly, believed that I 
was telling the truth and helped me as best he could 
— and I told myself that no matter what crimes he 
had committed, I was grateful for what he had 
done for me, and even if everyone spoke of him as a 
villain, and hated and condemned him, I would try 
to think kindly of him for what he had done for me. 

“And then as I read in the papers of Christian 
Forgeat’s trial and thought of the law and police 
all set against him, even though they had found in 
his past that he never had a chance, I felt that it 
was my duty to tell of his goodness to me. Perhaps 
on that account the judges might be more lenient! 

“I knew I would have to tell frankly of the most 
shameful hour of my life, but there was no other 
way to prove my story. 

“And that is why, monsieur, I told the judge of 
my meeting with Christian Forgeat — that is why, 
when you appealed to me in his name, I came to you 


276 


THE GUILTY MAN 


willingly and told you my whole story. I am ready 
to repeat it in the Supreme Court if it will do him 
any good. 

“I am only a poor girl, but my heart tells me I 
must do this. I do not want to think of him as a 
criminal but as an unfortunate, and it seems only 
right to me that when everyone insists that he is a 
scoundrel, which may be true, there should be some- 
one in the world to say that once in his life he did 
one good deed.” 

Louise stopped — she had told all. In a minute 
the sad little woman saw the old man arise and come 
to her with his arms open. His face was tear- 
stained and he sobbed convulsively as he took her 
hands, drew her toward him and tenderly kissed her 
on the forehead. 

^^Mon enfant, mon pauvre enfant/* he said in his 
sobbing voice. “I want you to know that from to- 
day on I shall look out for you and your little girl. 
You will know misery no longer. 

“There is a man to whom you have shown a light 
and to whom you have pointed out his duty, a man 
whose pride is completely broken and who, like you, 
will never again in his lifetime obey any other im- 


THE GUILTY MAN 


277 

pulse than the dictates of his own heart. To save 
that unfortunate criminal, he will confess his own 
sin and exhibit his own shame.” 


CHAPTER XIX 


THE TRIAL 

Under the light of the gas jets at the Supreme 
Court is a suffering bleeding Christ placed in the 
severe wainscoting. This wan body, whose every 
muscle is tense with sorrow, does not open his arms 
to bless and forgive. From his torn hands and feet, 
and the gory wound in his side, there issues no mys- 
tic outpouring of consolation. The criminal on 
trial may be as innocent as was He — who knows? 
Yet he can think of but one thing as he looks upon 
that tragic pitiable image — that on the morrow he, 
too, may be condemned to die. The artist who con- 
ceived that sombre picture did not understand the 
hope of divine absolution and innocence regained, 
nor did he have faith in the everlasting happiness 
promised to plus coupahle des coupahlesJ* 

Why then was this statue in the court room? If 
justice does not exist in this world, does not this 
reminder of the most cruel of all injustices seem an 
extreme irony? And if it were placed there to keep 


THE GUILTY MAN 


279 


alive in the minds of the judges the fact that they are 
subject to error, that theirs is the most exacting of 
all callings, why then is this symbol placed behind 
them? 

Three men were seated under the statue. 

In the centre sat the president, a corpulent old 
man with a heavy face. His head was entirely bald 
— the only hair on his face was his gray shaggy eye- 
brows. On his thick sensual lips a jeering smile 
played constantly. He was Judge Durousseau, 
famous for his “bon mots” and jokes for the benefit 
of the spectators, but at the expense of the prisoner 
with whose head he played as a large lazy cat with 
a ball of worsted. He was very fashionable, a thor- 
ough man of the world, seen at all the opening per- 
formances, and dining in the hotels every night. 

In the press he was invariably referred to as ^*une 
figure essentiellement parisienne” 

When he presided there were always places re- 
served for fashionable women and actresses. A 
friend of his on the vaudeville stage had once said: 

“Durousseau is the only president who makes 
money.” 

However, he was an excellent jurisconsult, a 


28 o 


THE GUILTY MAN 


patron of art and an intelligent collector of medals, 
yet above all he was a “galant” and would have been 
astonished to hear that he was cruel in his facetious 
examination of a miserable wretch whom he was 
about to sentence either to a long term or to the 
gallows. 

The facial expressions of the two assistant judges 
were most unattractive. The one to the right was 
bald, very thin, and had a black pointed beard. He 
looked thoroughly disagreeable, his brow being 
wrinkled as if from an everlasting headache. The 
one to the left was an old blond as red as a small 
rosy apple. He was constantly rolling his blue my- 
opic eyes. 

These three personages lolling lazily in their 
arm chairs, with their red cuffs spread out on the 
table, seemed bored by lack of interest and fatigue. 

The case of the Rue Cadet, whose argument had 
now been going on for two days in the highest court, 
was not fulfilling its promise of intense drama- 
tic interest, the hearing of the previous day 
greatly disappointing the ladies and noted Parisians 
who had come there expecting to be aroused to a 
high emotional pitch. The accusation, which seemed 


THE GUILTY MAN 


281 


interminable as it was read by the clerk in a sleepy 
monotonous voice, only served to rehearse the 
facts which the papers had presented in twenty or 
more accounts. Even the cross examination of the 
prisoner was not brilliant. And above all the per- 
sonality of Christian Forgeat was a great disappoint- 
ment. As an assassin capable of committing a crime 
almost in the open streets of Paris, the public was 
prepared to see a man who was a terrible bandit, a 
free savage in the midst of civilization. The pale 
lame man of unattractive appearance and modest 
attitude, who confessed his crime with sincere re- 
pentance, denying only any premeditation, and who 
seemed doomed from the first, was indeed an unin- 
teresting specimen of the reckless criminaL His piti- 
ful childhood, his good behavior at the colony, his 
years of misery and vagabondage — all this was ab- 
solutely insignificant and tame. 

“He is trying to make a romance of that/^ said 
Mademoiselle Lamour of the Varietes disdainfully. 

The women of the world, whose morbid curiosity 
had led them to come to the trial, began to yawn. 

“The president certainly fooled us when he prom- 
ised an interesting afternoon. Bah! the criminal is 


202 


THE GUILTY MAN 


as vulgar as can be — we would have done better to 
go to the Water Color Society to-day.’* 

Realizing that his audience was cold and bored, 
Monsieur Durousseau began to amuse them a bit 
with his wit. In his questioning of Forgeat, from 
whom he wrung the story of the murder in short 
phrases, Monsieur le President found opportunity 
to make two puns, which, however, did not meet 
with their usual success. 

The entire audience was ennuye^ and the vaude- 
ville actress expressed the popular opinion when she 
said: 

“Poor Durousseau — this is really a mess.” 

The second day was equally disappointing, and 
even the desire to hear the cross examination of 
Monsieur Vadvocat general Lescuyer and the defense 
of Pechaud had attracted only a very limited num- 
ber of the curious. 

To-day there were no outer barristers in their 
flowing robes politely conducting the invited guests 
to their reserved seats. There was only “a half- 
filled house,” as one says of the theatre, and the 
president who saw only reporters, lawyers and court 


THE GUILTY MAN 


283 


officials in the room, was consequently in a very bad 
humor. Seated between his two sleepy assistants, 
he conducted the case phlegmatically, as he listened 
to the evidence which was but a repetition of what 
had been said over and over again. He did not 
even take the trouble to hector the witnesses as was 
his wont. 

However, since the beginning of the trial, all the 
habitues of the Palais had been struck with the ex- 
pression and attitude of Monsieur Lescuyer. Seated 
in his place to the left of the judges he, as public 
prosecutor, had not once interrupted the proceed- 
ings with the customary, “I object.” His face, at 
no time cheerful, had never worn so sad and set an 
expression. His eyes were lowered and he seemed 
lost in deep meditation, completely unaware of 
what was going on about him. 

“What is the trouble with Monsieur Lescuyer?” 
whispered a young lawyer to the senior member of 
his firm. “Of course he is never very jolly, but look 
at him to-day — he is gloomy enough to scare one. 
It seems strange — since the beginning of this trial 
he hasn’t said a word, has scarcely raised his eyes. 
Do you think he is ill?” 


284 


THE GUILTY MAN 


The senior member, Monsieur Begasse (reputed 
to have the most caustic tongue in Paris, and there- 
fore to be the lawyer whom one would engage when 
he cared less for winning the case than for humiliat- 
ing his opponent) sneered silently. 

“My dear boy, this uninteresting case has put him 
to sleep and anyway he is to be nominated as judge 
next month, and I suppose he thinks he needn’t 
bother with these duties any longer. See, he is 
changing his position.” 

It was true. Monsieur Lescuyer trembled and 
raised his eyes as the judge said: 

“The testimony of Louise Rameau will now be 
taken.” 

She entered, quietly dressed in black — for a chari- 
table hand had taken her from her old miserable 
quarters and given her some necessary funds. 
Timid and thoroughly alarmed by the imposing 
solemnity of justice, but confident in her own desire 
and resolution to pay her debt to Christian Forgeat, 
if possible, she ascended the witness stand. 

Very simply and in a trembling voice which vi- 
brated with the accent of truth, she told how the 
murderer but a few minutes after his crime had been 


THE GUILTY MAN 


285 


generous and considerate to a woman in tears and 
to a child in its cradle. 

When Louise Rameau took the stand, the accused 
seated between two soldiers looked at her with 
amazement. At first he did not recognize her. 
Since early morning he had listened to the testimony 
of his acquaintances of the basse boheme which had 
done his case more harm than good. These wit- 
nesses were actuated by a desire to help a friend who 
was down, but most of them only succeeded in preju- 
dicing the judge against him. 

“What was this woman about to do now,’* he 
wondered. 

“Where had she been found? 

“What would she say against him? 

“The same story no doubt, that he was a vaga- 
bond who had never had steady employment. Alas ! 
the judges knew that only too well.” 

After the two long hearings, the unfortunate man 
was tired, completely exhausted, and awaited impa- 
tiently the pronouncing of the verdict. 

“What is the use of this new witness, this un- 
known woman?” 


286 


THE GUILTY MAN 


He was lost, he knew it. No one could give the 
necessary evidence that he had entered Soldmayer’s 
shop without criminal intent, that he had killed him 
in a sudden uncontrollable rage. 

He had repeated it ten times but no one had be- 
lieved him, and when he wanted to raise his hand to 
swear that he was uttering the absolute truth, the 
president had been very angry with him and made 
some sarcastic remarks on the subject of honor. 

If only the verdict were soon read — death — that 
was the simplest and quickest way, and all that this 
woman might say could have no effect. 

But with her first words Christian Forgeat recog- 
nized the poor young woman, and as he listened to 
her speaking so frankly and bravely of what must 
have been exquisite torture to her, and pleading with 
the judges to take note of his goodness, his despair 
was mitigated, and burying his face in his hands he 
began to weep quietly. In all the world he had one 
friend, one human being there was who would make 
a sacrifice for him. 

The attorney general in his place as State’s evi- 
dence summoned up all his moral courage and tried 
to control the sobs which were consuming him. This 


THE GUILTY MAN 


287 


man, filled with remorse and sorrow stricken, who 
had sworn to do a mighty act and who was in a 
moment to expose his life’s secret and renounce his 
profession — he, who was to bring upon himself a 
supernal punishment to save a criminal, was living 
the most crushing hour of his life, yet he was over- 
whelmed for the moment with a deep consoling 
emotion. Oh! what happiness was his! — for this 
Christian Forgeat, his own son, fallen so low, was 
not a villain at heart, his soul was not dead, if he 
understood and felt the generosity of that humble 
woman, and wept at her act of courage and heroism. 

The testimony of Louise Rameau made a great 
impression on the audience. When she explained 
how she had come to know the accused and how 
she had taken him to her home, the president felt 
that the subject was fitting for one of his flashes of 
humor. But old Pechaud, who pled the defense of 
Forgeat, lowering his white head and interrupting 
with a few fatherly words to Louise, asked her to 
continue her touching story. 

When she had finished, even the jovial Durous- 
seau felt the indelicacy of his joke— there was a 
movement among the jurors who thus far had sat 


288 


THE GUILTY MAN 


like statues, and two of them wiped the tears from 
their eyes. 

Nevertheless the incident, pathetic as it was, 
did not change the issue or prove lack of premedita- 
tion, and its power to save the culprit was doubtful. 
He had answered the cross examination quietly and 
had expressed his repentance sincerely without a de- 
sire for effect in word or look. But it was quite 
improbable that the jury would disregard the very 
important matter of premeditation, despite the mas- 
terly plea of Pechaud. 

“What outcome do you predict. Monsieur Be- 
gasse?” asked the young lawyer. 

“Hm,” answered the old stager, “Pechaud will 
try some of his melodrama and play on our 
sympathies. The accused has no previous bad 
record except his commitment to the Colony, which 
should really count as an extenuating circumstance. 
Who knows? — it may happen that he will escape 
the gallows. However, it was clearly a case of mur- 
der following theft and the ‘gentlemen’ of the jury 
generally pronounce but the one verdict for that, you 
know. Look at that gross looking apoplectic, the 
third man on the second row. He’s one who will 


THE GUILTY MAN 


289 


be a good barometer — let’s watch him. If Pechaud 
draws a tear from that phlegmatic old creature, 
and I’ll admit he’s capable of It, Forgeat might get 
twenty years at hard labor. But I repeat, murder 
followed by theft, that’s very serious. 

“But Lescuyer, who Is usually very severe — ^won’t 
he undo Pechaud’s effect?” 

“I really don’t know — ^in this case it all depends 
on the attorney general. There — Lescuyer Is rising 
now.” 


CHAPTER XX 


THE VERDICT 

Monsieur Lescuyer arose; his head was unshaken, 
his body rigid — he was indeed an awful figure, tre- 
mendous and appalling. He knit his heavy brows 
in a more forbidding way than usual, and with the 
gesture used by many orators when they begin their 
discourse, he seemed to rest his entire weight on his 
hands, which lay passive on the desk before him. 

With an heroic effort he conquered the tremor in 
his voice and began: 

“Gentlemen of the Jury, 

“Gentlemen of the Court, 

“The charge of an attorney general has seldom 
been a simpler matter than in the case before us to- 
day. On his own confession the accused killed 
another man and stole his money. However, he 
protests, despite all circumstantial evidence to the 
contrary, that he had not planned the crime in ad- 
vance and that he succumbed to the irresistible temp- 


THE GUILTY MAN 


291 


tation of the moment, though I am convinced that 
you do not believe him. Yet the pathetic testi- 
mony to which you have just listened seems to show 
that all the impulses for good have not been blotted 
out of the obscure soul of Christian Forgeat« We 
might cite in his favor his miserable childhood, also 
the fact that he was exposed to a most corrupting at- 
mosphere at the Colonie du Plateau, and above all 
that during several years of misery since his release 
he resisted all temptation. 

“In a few moments the worthy lawyer for the de- 
fense will lay stress on these extenuating conditions 
in order to arouse your sympathy, but I shall make 
my appeal to your sense of justice. My duty is to 
see and to know but one thing, that the accused man 
is a thief and an assassin. In the name of respect 
for all propriety, which is the only protection by 
means of which humanity lives in peace, and in the 
name of that respect which is even more sacred — 
the regard for life itself— there is only one course 
open to me as attorney general, and that is to tell 
you, gentlemen of the jury, that you must condemn 
the man ; and you, your Honor, the Judge, that you 
must carry out the punishment. 


292 


THE GUILTY MAN 


“During a long career I have fulfilled this duty 
with absolute clearness of conscience, and I have 
never arisen from this chair without being unmis- 
takably convinced that my words, no matter how 
severe, were uttered for the benefit of humanity and 
the defense of society. Whenever I was certain of 
the guilt of the accused I have always unhesitatingly 
demanded that he expiate his sin according to all 
the rigor of the law. 

“But to-day you see before you a very miserable 
man, whose conscience is tortured by doubt, whose 
heart is torn by remorse — a man who does not feel 
called upon to denounce the criminal, but who in- 
stead implores your pity for himself.” 


At this extraordinary declaration the audience 
looked aghast, then cried almost as a single man: 

“What a scandal! — the world is upset.” 

Monsieur Durousseau, completely nonplussed, 
thought it his cue to introduce one of his jokes, but 
the matter was a bit too serious for him ; he did not 
have the proper material for a pun, and could only 
stammer : 


THE GUILTY MAN 


293 


“Those are strange words, monsieur attorney 
general, I must ask you to explain.” 

Monsieur Lescuyer extended one hand toward the 
old man. 

“Everyone will understand in a few moments,” 
he answered with gentleness and authority; “you will 
understand and you will forgive my present conduct 
and speech, I am sure, for I am acting in obedience 
to the highest prompting of morality. By to-mor- 
row I shall have cast off this robe and all that it 
means, and if I have not done so before and taken 
my place with the defense to beseech your mercy for 
the accused, it is only because honor and nature have 
impelled me to remain here one day longer and 
make the last use of my position. 

“Be prepared, you who fear a scandal. That 
which I am about to do happens very seldom and 
yet I feel confident that not one person among you, 
officers of this Court of Justice, nor one of you, hon- 
est gentlemen of the jury, will reproach me. 

“And now,” cried the attorney general, “look 
well at the criminal on the bench of infamy, and — 
look closely at me, who am called upon to demand 
his life. That man — and I have known it only since 


294 


THE GUILTY MAN 


the hand of justice has been raised against him — 
that culprit is the son of a young woman whom I 
abandoned like a coward; he is the son whom my 
sense of honor exposed to a life of misery and crime. 
Christian Forgeat, the accused, is my own son 

The audience was in an uproar, but in obedience 
to the imperious command of Monsieur Lescuyer, 
the members of the Court, the judges, their assist- 
ants and the jurors looked at the face of Lescuyer, 
then at Forgeat, and realized the striking resem- 
blance, which no one had noted before. Their out- 
cry was simultaneous. 

The prisoner unconsciously moved to the right. 
The two soldiers held him firmly by the arm, but 
he lurched as far forward as possible, his eyes di- 
lating with terror, and gazing fixedly at the man 
who had made the astounding revelation — at his 
own father. 

As for the president, he was bewildered. What 
should he do? Should he suspend the proceedings? 
He had a vague intention of doing so. He half 
arose from his chair and tried to frame a fitting 
sentence. 


THE GUILTY MAN 


295 


“Monsieur I’avocat general seems indisposed,” 
he said. 

But Lescuyer interrupted him with a sovereign 
gesture. 

“No, monsieur le President, do not think that I 
have become mad. Do as the others in the court 
have done — look well at that man and then at me 
and form your own conclusion. 

“His mother’s name was Forgeat — and Christian 
Forgeat, the thief and murderer, is the son of Chris- 
tian Lescuyer, the attorney general of Paris. A 
young girl-mother abandoned by her lover, a 
child; who did not ask to be born, left to chance by 
his own father — that is a crime of which the law 
takes no account. But I, who am guilty of that sin, 
and who am to-day cruelly suffering from its conse- 
quences, I recognize that this is a terrible crime, and 
I wish to expiate it, to punish myself and to be an ex- 
ample to others as guilty as I who live in impunity. 
The public confession which I have made is not 
sufficient restitution. 

“From this hour I acknowledge Christian Forgeat 
as my son. If you sentence him to death I shall be 
the father of a man who died on the gallows ; if you 


296 


THE GUILTY MAN 


send him to prison, I shall be the father of a con- 
vict. I am the cause of his shame. I recognize my 
share in the outcome of his life; I consider myself 
responsible for the miserable influences which shaped 
his character; and I confess that my honor and my 
life are sullied. All that he has suffered, all that 
he has done, is the result of my sin. 

“While I forgot my cowardly sin, prompted by 
self-love, and kept on ascending the social heights 
with ever increasing respect and honor, this poor 
child, my child, lost his mother, became a street 
Arab, was sent to a school of correction, and on 
his release sank to the depths as a consequence of 
exposure to misery and hunger. 

“Who left him to chance and deprived him of 
all moral cultivation? 

“I! 

“Who denied him the lessons and noble example 
he needed? 

“I! 

“It was I, always I. 

“It is because I shirked the simplest duty, because 
I did not obey the most elementary instincts, that 
Christian Forgeat has been a vagabond, a convict. 


THE GUILTY MAN 


297 


a suspected stigmatized being all his life — and at 
last has become a criminal. 

“These dreadful realities! Oh, how they have 
burned themselves into my conscience since the day 
I learned of the crime and of the existence of my 
son I 

“I listened and bowed to the judgment of the 
Mighty Power, when He showed me how miserable 
and heartless a father I had been. He is guiding me 
in this hour to disregard Law and to obey Nature, 
when I plead for mercy instead of demanding the 
pound of flesh, when I am trying to wipe away with 
my Judge’s robe the blood spilled by the murderer, 
when I confess my remorse and punishment and 
declare : 

“I am the guilty man!” 

Convulsed with sobs, with his two hands twitching 
on his breast, Christian Lescuyer stopped speaking. 

Now the assemblage was silent, stilled with awe, 
and even the president, subdued by the sadly terrible 
eloquence, had no thought of interrupting the con- 
fession. 

The criminal, his head bowed, was quietly weep- 
ing. 


298 


THE GUILTY MAN 


“Have mercy, gentlemen of the jury,” said Mon- 
sieur Lescuyer with a supreme effort; “will you have 
pity on the father and the son? Do you think — ah! 
because of your emotion I dare to hope — ^do you 
believe that the hour has come when you can con- 
dejnn the injustice of the Code which does not pun- 
ish the father of an illegitimate child who enrolls 
the accursed little soul in the army of evil? 

“These laws, these cruel laws — fool and culprit 
that I am! — I have spent my life in believing that 
they were necessary and just, and in enforcing them 
to the very letter. To-day I know only how to re- 
pent, to implore, to beseech. I can only promise 
that, if you entrust this unfortunate, ensanguined 
lad to my care, I shall watch over him, regenerate 
him and tend the small flicker of goodness and 
honor which still burns in his darkened soul. I can 
only point to the image of the Christ whose divine 
word assuaged hearts full of anger and vengeance 
and made hands drop the stones with which they 
were about to assault a weak fellow creature. 

“On the last occasion that I occupy this chair I 
am not here to accuse, gentlemen of the jury, but to 
beg for mercy. Mercy for the unfortunate boy — 



“have mercy, gentlemen of the jury, I AM THE GUILTY MAN.” 

Page 298 . 


t 


- y 


t. 


I 


I- ' 






THE GUILTY MAN 


299 


mercy for me ! I ask it of you in the name of the 
thought for which He died, and which will sooner 
or later heal all the sorrows of the human family — 
the sublime thought of pity and love, which teaches 
that forgiveness is the highest type of justice.” 

He stopped. An emotion of silence, but pregnant 
with anguish and subdued sobbing, gripped his listen- 
ers. And the two culprits, father and son, the judge 
and the judged, one in his place of honor, the other 
in his place of shame, both overcome and covering 
their tear-stained faces, stood in the same attitude, 
made the same gesture of despair. 

The president, a man not bad at heart despite 
his usual lack of sympathy, was overwhelmed, and 
for the first time realized the cruelty of his usual 
levity. Nevertheless he reproached himself severely 
for not having had the courage to interrupt the con- 
fession of Monsieur Lescuyer. The public confess 
sion displeased him greatly. Could he permit an 
attorney general, despite convincing proof and the 
undeniable confession of the accused, to disregard 
his duty? What would be the opinion of the other 
courts, the press, the public? How would his own 


300 


THE GUILTY MAN 


attitude be interpreted? How would his conduct in 
this case be judged? Would he not be accused of 
lacking presence of mind and firmness ? And yet he 
was truly sorry for his colleague and desired to reach 
as kind a decision as possible. 

He knew that above all he must gain time. 

“After the unexpected turn in the proceedings,” he 
said hesitatingly, “the Court considers it fitting and 
proper that judgment be postponed, and that we 
adjourn to the President’s private office to decide 
whether or not another trial will be necessary.” 

But Monsieur Pechaud arose and claimed the 
right to speak. The old lawyer, who understood at 
last the insistence of his friend Lescuyer that he 
plead the defense, saw the danger of giving the 
burning emotion of the audience a chance to cool. 

In the broad simple manner which gave so much 
authority to his address, he knew how to intimidate 
the Court. He did not think this the time to ad- 
journ without a breach of custom which he consid- 
ered exceedingly serious, and if such should be the 
case he would protest. 

The lawyer for the defense had his inalienable 
and absolute rights, and in the present instance it was 


THE GUILTY MAN 


301 


because the new evidence was in favor of the accused 
that according to all precedents he claimed his priv- 
ilege. 

The president, who was not at all angry that this 
loophole was offered him, granted the request under 
the existing conditions and permitted the plea to be 
itiade. 

But the capable man was wary in the choice of 
his words. He rehearsed the well known facts of 
the case, the murder of Soldmayer and the blood- 
stained pawn ticket — for the crime had been almost 
lost sight of and swamped, so to speak, by the heart- 
rending confession made by the culprit’s father. 

When Monsieur Pechaud resumed, the jurors 
were still upset by the heroic action of M. Lescuyer. 
To keep them keyed up to that pitch and not al- 
low their emotion to be dissipated, the old lawyer 
did not display the wonderful eloquence of which he 
was master, but, preferring to have his friend’s im- 
pression remain the stronger, applied himself to 
drawing a pathetic picture of the life of this pariah 
of a son, and of the heroic repentance of the father, 
concluding criefly with an appeal for mercy. 

The battle was won! The jury after a short 


302 


THE GUILTY MAN 


deliberation rendered the verdict: — “Not guilty! 
Christian Forgeat is acquitted!” 

When the young man, aroused by his guards, 
heard the president read the sentence of acquittal 
and order that immediate freedom be given him, 
he was dazed and staggered. He looked dumb- 
founded at the man wearing the court insignia, the 
attorney general, who was his father and had saved 
his life. 

It must be a dream! The jury had shown him 
clemency? The court had not enforced its punish- 
ment? 

From the very depths of his being he cried out: 

“It is true ! I am free !” 

Several minutes later, as he left the recorder’s 
office, where he had been sent to fill out several 
blanks for the jail book, he entered the court room 
again. It was almost deserted at this late hour but 
he saw his savior coming toward him. The attorney 
general had taken off his cap and gown for the last 
time and was awaiting the departure of the freed 
prisoner. Instinctively, as he caught sight of him, 
Christian Forgeat drew back in confusion. Then 



“henceforward, my son, you belong to your father.” 

Page 303 . 








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THE GUILTY MAN 


303 


Monsieur Lescuyer placed his two hands on the 
boy’s shoulders. 

“No, my son,” he said, “no, you are not free to 
go where you like. What use would you make of a 
liberty which would only lead you into evil ways? 
Henceforth you belong to your father, to a father 
who did not do his duty by you, but who hopes now 
to make up for the neglect of all these years. Yes, 
you belong to me, you will be your father’s prisoner. 
I shall never mention the past. To help you retrace 
your footsteps and walk toward the right, I shall be 
your guide, and whenever your sorrow seems too 
hard to bear, I shall open my arms to my poor boy 
as I did to-day.” 

In the large room stood an old court official wait- 
ing to turn out the lights. He had been a gendarme, 
unsympathetic and with a great respect for the 
magistracy. For lack of something better to do he 
had attended the first trial of Christian Forgeat and 
had just learned of his acquittal without any details. 
Of course he was not In favor of such a result and 
asked how In the world the jury could have rendered 
so absurd a verdict. 

He grew impatient as he watched the two men in 


304 


THE GUILTY MAN 


earnest conversation and thought that their delay 
would make him eat cold soup for his supper. As 
he approached them the man’s respect for those in 
authority received a shock at the sight of the dig- 
nified Monsieur Lescuyer clasping the sobbing as- 
sassin to his heart. 


CHAPTER XXI 


EXPIATION 

A GIGANTIC Steamer, bound for southern ports, was 
slowly sailing up the harbor of Havre. Despite the 
mist and the winter fog, the names of the cities of 
the Pacific — Valparaiso, Santiago, Arequipa and 
Guayaquil (which sound like the cries of parrots) — 
had attracted a large number of travellers. It was 
the moment of departure, always a solemn one when 
the moods of the mighty ocean are taken into con- 
sideration. The two enormous smokestacks poured 
out a thick black cloud which obscured the surround- 
ing masts. 

The captain (wearing his seaman’s cap, with his 
hands in the pockets of his heavy overcoat, which 
reached his boots) stood watching the farewell em- 
braces and ready to help those who were about to 
step off before the last whistle sounded. 

Presently the gangplank was withdrawn and the 
helmsman in his oilskin suit was on the ladder 


3o6 


THE GUILTY MAN 


awaiting only a sign to order the great machinery 
to be put into motion. 

At regular intervals the shrill siren shrieked. 
The boat was off ! 


Because of the disagreeable weather the captain’s 
bridge was deserted, only four passengers standing 
there, while the others were on the deck waving 
their goodbyes and throwing kisses to the dear ones 
they were leaving. 

Who are these four people who are standing 
alone and not taking part in the farewells ? First of 
all, the man standing near the balustrade is the at- 
torney general, Christian Lescuyer, who is leaving 
his native France forever, and not far from him, 
seated on the bench are Christian Forgeat, his son, 
and Louise Rameau, with her little daughter on 
her lap. 

Monsieur Lescuyer looks affectionately at the 
three young people whom he has adopted and with 
whom he is exiling himself. They constitute his 
family. 

The man, whose nature has been transformed by 


THE GUILTY MAN 


307 


sorrow and love, has a fatherly affection for all 
three and his one desire is to make their lives happy. 
He is willing to go anywhere with them where far 
from all reminders of their unfortunate youth, they 
can forget the past and begin a new existence. 

Christian Lescuyer had reached that decision the 
day following his son’s acquittal. The entire judi- 
ciary had looked with disfavor upon the verdict in 
the Forgeat case as clearly the result of excited and 
sympathetic emotion and against all the established 
tenets of justice. The attorney general received 
no compassion from his colleagues, and when he 
submitted his resignation, it was accepted with a 
stiffness which did not surprise him, but which 
showed him clearly what he might expect in future 
from society, three-fourths of which is composed of 
hypocrites and pharisees. 

Only Donadieu and his good wife came to Les- 
cuyer at once and told him of their admiration and 
approval. But even they did not dare to ask him 
how he intended to give up his life to his son. 

Lescuyer was sure that his son would never be re- 
ceived where his story was known, so there was but 
one solution of the problem — to leave France. 


310 


THE GUILTY MAN 


perhaps the land where they had known nothing but 
suffering. The little girl on Louise’s lap placed one 
of her hands in that of Christian Forgeat, who 
smiled at the mother and the child. These three 
would console, strengthen and love one another. 

The steamer, which makes very good time, has 
passed the bank of the semaphore and is being vio- 
lently rocked by the first ground swell. The wind 
is high, the sea gulls pass and repass in their rapid 
flight. The boat rocks and tosses up the gray foam 
over its decks. Away up in the clouds there are one, 
two, three little blue islands, then more and more 
are visible. 

The fine weather has set in. The fog is lifting. 
At last all the little clouds have vanished, the sun is 
shining brilliantly. The waves are green and the 
billows scatter in silver ripples. The boat, carrying 
the emigrants, rolls and pitches in its unswerving 
course and goes forward, glowing and active, on 
the cheerful sea of hope. 


FINIS. 


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